
r'^m 



ATHO^N TO AIJERSX'\JJ! 



■■■■■ 




Bkigadieb-Genekal Charles King, U. S. V. 



FAMOUS AND DECISIVE 

Battles of the World 



THE ESSENCE OF HISTORY. 



FROM MARATHON, B. C , 490 
TO AUERSTADT, A. D., 1806 



WITH PLANS OF BATTLEFIELDS, 
MAPS AND ENGRAVINGS 



CHARLES KING, Brigadier-General, U. S, A, 

Author of "Fort Frayne," "A West Point Parallel, Etc. 



P. W. ZIEGLER CO. 

PHILADELPhy'A: ; y 



LIBRARY Jf -JONGrtESS 

juN 7 lyyi" 

CLASS OL. WC Nw 

COPY e. 



Copyright, 1905, 

by 

D. W. CASKEY, Jr 



INTRODUCTORY. 

The history of the Old World has been written in the blood of 
its battlefields. Artists, poets, romancers have drawn inspiration 
from this fountain and the stories remain indelibly impressed upon 
the records of time for the inspiration they have been to genera- 
tions of men. Too many are content with knowledge of scattered 
happenings, memorable instances of valor chosen from the wealth 
of events by those who have put them in verse, have immortalized 
them in marble or have glorified them in color on canvas. Too 
few go themselves to the fountain of this inspiration, to glean the 
facts, to know their chronological sequence, their mutual relations 
and their exact niche in the great frieze of world events which 
history records. This volume is designed to meet, then, an actual 
need. It presents briefly, though not too briefly, to inform fully ; 
graphically, though not too graphically to confuse naked facts, 
the essence of history in that memorable Old World era from the 
earliest times to the eve of the day on which the mighty Napo- 
leon's sun was set. No education is complete without acquaint- 
ance with events that in this period gave definite direction to the 
mighty stream of civilization. Nevertheless, in a busy, work-a- 
day world, men — young, mid-aged and old — halt at the task of 
searching a field for the vast story of twenty-three hundred years. 
It has been the aim of the author to choose from the bulk of 
notable events in these twenty-three centuries what is essential 
to a broad and comprehensive grasp of the whole. Time has 
proven that the world's battlefields have been the stages on which 
its dramas have reached their climaxes. Here arms and state 
craft, twins in the guiding of nations, have fraternized in mutual 
greatness. So from the dawn of time, throughout the era covered 
in these pages, a consecutive, historically accurate statement of 
facts is presented, in fact, as is claimed for it, the "essence of 
history." 

The author. General Charles King, scarce needs an introduc- 
tion. In the whole gamut of historical writers none could be 
found more capable of approaching the truly great responsibility 
of preparing a volume with the aim of this one, than General — 
more popularly known as Captain — King. He has brought to his 
task military training, literary talent of an excellent order and a 
constructive ability akin to genius. General King is a graduate 



2 INTRODUCTORY. 

of West Point, and not only himself a skilled soldier, but has 
been an instructor in the art of war, and in addition to long 
theoretical knowledge of his profession, met war face to face 
in the Spanish-American struggle. Needless to say, his mind has 
readily reduced the chronicle of battles of the world to their 
essentials. These he has presented in a style commensurate with 
the ability of an author well known and eminently popular with 
the American reading public. 

Battles, of themselves, inspire the imagination. A patriotic, 
country-loving people find greatest delight, of course, in the mili- 
tant annals of their own land. But equally well does the story of 
brave struggling by the brave of every clime, under any flag, ap- 
peal to the imagination. In America are blended men of everj' 
country under the sun, and here, of all places, does the cosmo- 
politan Goddess Victory find her widest adoration. Here, then, 
is a volume for all America that loves valor for valor's sake ; 
here, then, is a volume that follows in history's train, to whatever 
land events have been made in her name. 

Thirty-eight battles, decisive in the history of nations, famous 
for displays of daring or celebrated for the development of great 
strategic principles form the subject matter of the work, and are 
portrayed with dramatic fire and brilliancy. They illustrate the 
sweep of the Persian hordes into Europe and the heroic and tri- 
umphant resistance of Greece ; the rise of Macedon and her in- 
vasion of Europe: Alexander, victorious at Arbela and master of 
the world ; the rise of Rome and her long and bitter struggle with 
Carthage ; the meeting of Hun and Romans at Chalons ; the bat- 
tling of Saracen and Crusader for the Holy Sepulchre ; the Nor- 
man conque.st of England : the bloody contests of the Reforma- 
tion : the rescue of \^ienna from the Turks ; Sweden's leap into 
martial fame, and her conflict with Russia ; the Thirty Years' war ; 
Frederick the Great's campaigns, and, finally, France, headed by 
Napoleon, fighting the world. 

A wealth of illustrations rounds out the volume to more than 
generous proportions. INfeissonier, Berkeley, Caton Woodville, 
De Neuville and scores of other famous delineators of battles are 
represented by their masterpieces. Portraits of men prominent 
in various lands throughout the period, maps of countries, plans 
of battlefields, plates showing historic war dress, arms, armor, 
accoutrements and ordnance from the earliest times to the present 
day, have been supplied in profusion. 

The Publishers. 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 



Brigadier-General Charles King, U. S. A Frontispiece' 

Ancient Arms and Accoutrements i8 ' 

Arms and Accoutrements of tlie Middle Ages 20 • 

Arms and Accoutrements, Fifteenth to Eighteenth Centuries 22 

- Battlefield of Marathon 37 / 

Battle of Thermopylae 40 / 

Battlefield of Thermopylae 46 ^ 

Battlefield of Platea 46 '' 

Battlefield of Leuctra 63 . 

Battlefield of Mantinea 70 

'The Battle of Arbela 79- 

Battlefield of Arbela 93 . 

Hannibal Crossing the Alps 94 --• 

Destruction of the Roman Legion 113^ 

Charge of Hannibal's Elephants 124 r 

Last Fight of the Phalanx 152 / 

Battle of Pharsalia 162 • 

Meeting of Antony and Cleopatra on the Cydnus 171 

The Huns I74 

Edith Finding the Body of Harold after the Battle of Hastings 191 

Death of Harold at Hastings 196 

Entry of Godfrey of Boullon into Jerusalem 207 

Attack on the Walls of Acre 217 

The Battle of Cressy 222 

The Last Stand of King John of France 226 

Edward HI. Congratulating the Black Prince 227 

Joan of Arc Wounded 235 , 

Trial of Joan of Arc, at Rouen, February 21, 1431 242 , 

Monument to Joan of Arc in Rouen 242 - 

Entry of Mohammed II. into Constantinople, May 29, 1453 250 

Siege of Constantinople 250 

Battlefield of Leipsic 264 

Death of Gustavus Adolphus at the Battle of Lutzen 271 

Count de Staremberg Defending the Walls of Vienna against the 

\ Turks 286 

;The Gallant Staremberg Came to Hail him 287 

Charles XII. Relieving Narva 297 

Charles XII. in the Battle of Fultowa 303 

3 



4 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 

Blenheim. Storming the Village by the Scots Greys 318 

Battlefield of Ramillies 328 ' 

Battlefield of Blenheim 328 

Ramilies. Attack by Lord Clare's Irish Regiment in the French Ser- 
vice 335 

Louis XIV 338 > 

Oudenarde, the Elector of Hanover, afterwards George 11., Leading 

his Squadron into Action 348 ' 

'^Battlefield of Leuthen 364 

Battlefield of Kunersdorf 364 

Praise God from Whom all Blessings Flow 365 -^ 

Death of General Warren at Bunker Hill '..... 401 v-" 

Bunker Hill and Vicinity 407 ■ 

General George Washington 412 ■' 

Patrick Henry 422 ' 

General Israel Putnam 422 

General Arnold Wounded at Saratoga 42S 

Medal Awarded to General Gates 428 

Napoleon on the Bridge at Areola 433 ' 

Marengo. The Charge of the Twelfth Hussars 439 

Battle of the Pyramids 444 

Napoleon I., Emperor of France 455 

Murat at the Battle of Jena 498 

"Friedland," 1807. At the Height of his Glory S07 

From Mayence to Berlin 5I9 



CONTENTS, 



MARATHON, 490 B. C. 
Darius, King of Persia, 500 B. c— Vastness of his empire— Grecian and Per- 
sian interests clash in Asia Minor— Darius' bitter resentment against 
Miltiades — Persia makes war on tlie Greek colonies— Mardonius de- 
spatched with a powerful fleet to sack Athens— His dire misfortune- 
Darius rallies for a fihal elTort — Assembles a great army on the plains of 
Cilicia— Datis the Mede, and Artaphernes in command— They cross the 
^gean and land at Marathon — Confidence of the Persians — Simultaneous 
rising of Attica— Spartan aid invoked— Platcea to the rescue— Disposition 
of the Asiatics— Their surprise — Impetuosity of the Greelcs finally checked 
by the Persian centre— They fall back and entice the Persians in undisciplined 
pursuit, on to the open plain— Greek successes on the right and left— The 
Persians hemmed in on three sides— Fearful carnage— The army of Datis 
in mad retreat— They fly to their ships— Their camp in possession of the V 
Greeks — The Persians sail for Athens— Miltiades marches overland to its 
support— Datis, again baflled, withdraws— Athens to the forefront in Grecian 
affairs— Pitiful end of Miltiades— Darius returns to Asia— Greece sees no 
more of the Persians for ten years -,r ,. 

THERMOPYL^, 480 B. C. 

A combat renowned in history— Darius resolves to lead a new expedition against 
Greece — Great preparations— Baflled and annoyed, he is seized with a fatal 
illness and dies in the midst of his preparations— Xerxes his son succeeds 
him— Persia's last and greatest effort— The Hellespont bridged— An over- 
whelming Persian force in Europe— Triumphant march through Thrace, 
Thessaly and Macedon— The Spartans under Leonidas seize the pass of 
Thermopylffi— An army of nearly 2,000,000 confronted by less than 5,000 
—Xerxes vainly attempts to force the pass— Leonidas' position invincible 
from the front— The second day a repetition of the first— Treachery at work 
—A forgotten path utilized by the Persians— Bitter tidings reach Leonidas on 
the third day— A strong detachment of Persians in his rear— He scorns to 
flee— Xerxes amazed at seeing the Spartans charge his centre— Leonidas ^W 6^1 
mortally wounded at last— His little command ucteriy destroyed— The con- 
queror thunders through the streets of Athens 33-45 

5 



IL. 



6 CONTENTS. 

PLAT^ffiA, 479 B. C. 

Disastrous defeat of the Persian fleet at Salamis — Leaving Mardonius in com- 
mand Xerxes makes his way back to his capital— Mardonius' attempt on At- 
tica—His insidious offer— Lofiy reply of Athens— Sparta withholds her 
assistance— The Athenians again forced to take refuge in their ships— Realiz- 
ing her own peril Sparta finally comes to the rescue — Mardonius takes a 
position in Bceotia — The ho-^tile armies meet near Plalasa — Influence of the 
" Oracles" — Timelv warning of Alexander of Macedon- The Spartans sur- 
prised — Midnight nianceuvrcs— Amompharetus the Spartan^Mob-like pur- 
suit of the Persians — Arlabazus holds aloof — Pausanias pauses to offer up 
battle sacrifices — " Now, Sparta, advance " — The heavy infantrj' of Sparta 
literally tears through the Persian army — The hosts of Mardonius a fleeing 
mob — Treacherous conduct of Artabazus- Greek meeting Greek on the 

left The Persians make for a fortified enclosure — The men of Attica carry 

it by storm, and an unparalleled massacre takes place — Persian conquest of 
fireece abandoned after Pl.Ujea 4&-SS 



LEUCTRA, 371 B. C. 

1 jce^^ant warring among the Greek States for the supremacy — Athens sur- 
renders to Sparta — The latter revengeful and despotic — Her former allies 
desert her — Spartan supremacy destroyed — Persia solicits aid to quell a revolt 
in Egypt — Fresh troubles among the Greek States — Epaminondas defiant in 
the council — Character of this extraordinary man — Thebes and Sparta at 
war — They meet at Leuctra — Superstition aids the former — Superiority of the 
Theban cavalry — The " Sacred BaiiQ " — The strength of Sparta wasted 
against the science of Thebes — Death of Cleombrotus and retreat of the Spar- 
tans — Epaminondas the conqueror of the time-honored leaders and heroes of 
Greece 5^63 

MANTINEA, 362 B. C. 

fhebes and Sparta again meet in battle — No peace between the rival States 
since Leuctra — Description of the field — Composition and strength of the op- 
posing forces — Epaminondas marches to the attack — His strange movements 
puzzle the Spartans — Concluding that he does not mean to attack that day, 
they throw down shield and spear in easy confidence — Screened by his 
cavalry Epaminondas arranges the grand phalanx of Thebes in order of 
battle — Ready and awaiting the signal to advance — Confusion in the ranks of 
allies of the Peloponnesus — Instant overthrow of their cavalry — Epaminondas 
fights in the front rank of the phalanx — Greek meets Greek in deadly grap- 
ple — Unable to resist the Theban onset the Spartans fall back in utter rout 
and consternation — Epaminondas receives a mortal spear-thrust while pur- 
suing the fleeing Spartans — The pursuit abandoned — His death paralyzes the 
Thebans — They sign a treaty of peace — Epaminondbs the greatest soldier 
Greece had yet known 64-70 



CONTENTS. .^ J 

ARBELA, 331 B. C. ^^ 

Rugged Macedon becomes mistress of the Greek confederacy — Its king, Philip, 
trained in the school of Epaminondas— His perfect military system — Philip's 
murder puts his son, the future Alexander the Great, on the tlirone — He pre- 
pares for an invasion of Asia — His small army the perfected machine of a 
century of experiment — Synopsis of his methods and description of hit ar- 
rangements—Alexander a man of superb physique, iron constitution and 
dauntless courage — A new Darius opposes him in Asia — Napoleon's critique 
— Character of Darius — Repeatedly defeated he makes a final stand at Ar- 
bela — The empire of the world at stake — First appearance of caparisoned 
elephants in battle — Darius' order of battle — Cautious movements of the 
Macedonian king — He calls a council and explains his plans — Disposition of 
his forces — Persia's opportunity — failure of the chariot charge — The great 
line of Darius surges forward — Alexander leads an impetuous attack 
on the Persian centre — He makes for Darius — Flight of the latter to the 
mountains — The desertion of the king produces a panic in the Persian centre 
—The Macedonian left utterly surrounded and cut off — Simmais and Cra- 
terus to the rescue of Parmenio — Final and decisive triumph of Alexander on 
the left — The glorious battle of Arbela the most decisive of his career — 
Moral effects of the battle — Dying at Babylon in the midst of his triumphs 
Alexander's great empire is divided among his generals — End of Macedo- 
nian sway in Asia 7'' ^3 

CANN^, 216 B. C. 

Greece's internal dissensions — The rise of two new powers — Rome and Car- 
thage clash in a "battle of the giants" — The former claims Sicily — The first 
Punic war — Carthage resolves to conquer Spain — Second Punic war — Hanni- 
bal appears on the scene — Fabius the Roman envoy in Carthage — War de- 
clared — Hannibal's eternal vengeance — Subjugates Gaul — Crosses the Alps 
and enters Italy — Scipio overthrown at Ticino — Battle at the Trebia and k£>\ 

mother Carthaginian triumph — The Romans fall back to the Adriatic — Rome 

chooses new Consuls — Another terrible disaster befalls them at Thrasymene — ■• TZ ^ 

Hannibal's new move — Policy of Fabius — Hannibal hemmed in — He again /•'-^ ' 

outwits the Romans and escapes — Fabius supplanted by Varro and Paullus — 
They establish a magazine of supplies at Cannae — Hannibal dashes in and 
seiies it — A powerful army sent against him — His preparations — The Ro- 
man commanders violently antagonistic in character, plans and methods — \/ 
The far-famed battle-field — Hannibal's matchless cavalry — Final disposition 
of the opposing forces — The battle begins — ^milius Paullus severely wounded 
— Varro left to his own devices — Valor of the Roman knights — The Roman 
right swept away — Hard fighting of the left — Varro's cavalry all vanquished 
— The infantry stands firm — A general advance of the Carthaginian line — 
Rome winning in the centre, Hannibal falls on both their flanks and hems 
them in on three sides — He finally grinds the Roman legions to powder- 
All is lost but honor — Death of Paullus and flight of Varro — Hannibal's 
greatest triumph — Rome still unconquered 94-I'S 



8 CONTENTS. 

ZAMA, 302 B. C. 

Apathy of the Carthaginians after Canns — Hannibal's call for support un- 
heeded — Scipio eventually "carries the war into Africa" — A brief glance 
at intervening events — The success of the Romans in two engagements 
revives hope and confidence — Hannibal wins two more bloody battles — 
— Capua taken by the Romans — The two Scipios killed in Spain — A young 
Scipio at the head of the reorganized Roman army — Fortune favors Rome — 
Success of Scipio Africanus in Spain — He invades Africa — Hannibal called 
home — Carthage sues for peace — A fresh war breaks out — Scipio collects his 
forces at Zama — Hannibal's elephants a source of perplexity to the Romans 
— Their tremendous charge in battle — Tricked into failure by Scipio's well- 
laid plans — Terrific hand-to-hand fighting between Scipio's legions and Han- 
nibal's veterans — Final defeat of the latter — Hannibal's flight — His death by 
suicide — Carthage finally razed to the ground I16-I24 

CYNOSCEPHALiE, 197 B. C. 

Decay of Macedon under another King Philip — Rome declares war against her 
after conquering Carthage — Rome's military system — Description of the 
legion — Attention paid to physical training — Unpopularity of Philip — Rome's 
pretence for war — Her invasion of Greece 200 B. C. — Achaia joins Rome — 
Strength of the opposing armies — Composition of Philip's army — Encounter- 
ing the Romans at Cynoscephalas — Confusion on both sides — The phalanx 
breaks the Roman left — Macedonia's left in loose array — Scattered by the 
war elephants — The Roman right wing falls upon them and completes their 
destruction — Consternation everywhere — Macedon's political importance 
gone for ever — Rome undisputed ruler of Southern Europe and Northern 
Africa «25-'3S 

MAGNESIA, 190 B. C. 
Division of the empire of Alexander the Great — The portion of Seleucus — His 
great-grandson Antiochus the Great on the throne — His designs on Egj'pt 
clash with Rome — He invades Thrace — -Rome's demand declined by Antio- 
chus — A declaration of war — Total defeat by the Romans near Thermopylae — 
Destruction of the Asiatic fleet at Myonesus — Scipio Africanus carries the 
war into Asia — -Alarm of Antiochus — Scipio declines his offer — The oppos- 
ing forces meet at Magnesia — Composition and strength of the two armies — 
The Romans under Eumenes begin the battle — His tactics discomfit the 
Asiatics — Retreat of the phalanx — Helplessness and irresolution of Antio. 
chus' army — The Roman horsemen complete its destruction — Rome " Arbi- 
tress of the world from the Atlantic to the Euphrates " 136-143 

PYDNA, 168 B. C. 

A new ruler in Macedon — His character — Growth of the country since the last 
war — Provisions of the treaty of peace with Rome ignored — The Romans de- 
clare war against Macedon for the third time — They land an army and send 
A fleet into the .<Egean — Defeat of their army under Crassus — Inactivity of 



CONTENTS. 9 

the fleet— A son of Emilius Paullus finally in command of the army— The 
Macedonians brought to bay at Pydna-Its location-An insignificant skir- 
mish brings on a great battle-Superiority of the Macedonian cavalry— Tac- 
tics of the Roman consul-The Phalangites decoyed into a disorderly pursuit, 
and then turned upon and annihilated by the legion-The last appearance 
of the world-renowned phalanx on any battle-field of fame-The death-blow^ 

of Macedon— Perseus dies a prisoner I44-IS2 

PHARSALIA, 49 B. C. 
Rome's hundred years of ceaseless warfare-Extent of her Asiatic conquests- 
Julius Cssar rising into great prominence-His quarrel with Pompey-The 
senate decides against the absent Csesar-He crosses the Rubicon and quickly 
becomes master of Italy-Pompey flees to Greece and rallies a new army 
around him— Discipline in the opposing armies contrasted -Strength of 
Pompey's army and navy-Preparations for Csesar's coming-The latter's 
lack of vessels-He evades Pompey's fleet and lands an army in Greece- 
Reinforced by Marcus Antonius-C^esar dashes into Thessaly and se.zes sup- 
plies-Pompey follows and overtakes him at Pharsalia-A battle for the mas- 
tership of the empire-Heavy fighting-Ca;sar's veterans discomfit Pompey's 
cavalry-Utter rout of his army— His flight into Egypt and assassination— 
"C^sar Imperator." the greatest soldier of Rome, the victim of high-born 

153-164 

assassins 

PHILIPPI, 42 B. C. 

Effect of Cesar's assassination-Cicero's influence-Antony assumes to act as 
Cesar's representative— Trouble among the conspirators— A new hero appears 
— Cffisar's adopted son hurries back from Greece and assumes the name of 
Caius Julius Cffisar Octavianus— Antony's amazement— Cicero and five legions 
hasten to the former's support— Sharp fighting— The " Second Triumvirate," _^ y 

42 B. C— Unpopularity of Brutus and Cassius in the Eastern provinces 
—The Triumvirate declares war against them— Black record of the former ^ 

—Brutus and Cassius await their coming at PhiUppi— The vision of Brutus- 
He precipitates the battle— Defeat of the Republicans— Suicide of Cassius— 
End of the first day's fight— Second day of Philippi— Brutus defenceless— 
Commits suicide-End of the Roman republic-Antony ensnared by Cleo- 
patra— Rupture between Antony and Octavius— The battle of Actium— 
Suicide of Antony and Cleopatra— Octavius becomes Augustus Caesar.. .165-1 7I 
CHALONS, 451 A. D. 
The beginning of the Christian era witnesses Rome's humiliation— Her inva- 
sion of Britain— She destroys Jerusalem, and a centuiy later subdues the [ 
Germans— The capital removed by Constantine to Constantinople— Rome's l^,, 
decline— Her colonies all Christianized— Attacked by the Huns under At- 
tila— Sketch of him— He invades France— Abandons the siege of Orleans 
and concentrates ai Chalon-sur-Marne-Tactics of the allies-A bloody bat- 
tle begins— Defeat of Attila— His retreat— Resolves not to be taken alive- 
Reasons why the allies failed to pursue-The power of the Huns effectually 
brokea : ■ '^^-W? 



lO CONTENTS. 



^J 



sJ 



TOURS, 732 A. D, 

Great changes in Christendom — End of the Roman Empire — Saxon conquest 
of Britain — The era of Mohammed — Saracenic conquests — Abderrahman 
crosses the Pyrenees and swoops down upon France — Cliarles Martel to the 
rescue — " The deadly battle " of Tours, the most important and decisive of 
the middle ages— The Saracens' desolating course — They lose all military 
discipline — Charles Martel takes advantage of this, and assembles an army — 
Abderrahman meets him at Tours — The advantage with the Franks the first 
day — The second day's fierce fighting, and death of Abderrahman — Merci- 
less slaughter of the Moslems — Their power completely broken — Charles 
Martel founds a great empire 1 78-18J 

HASTINGS, 1066 A. D. —.^ 

Disruption of Charlemagne's empire with his death — France suffers from the 1 CI ) 
Northmen — They settle in the north — Renown of the Norman knights — 
Rival claimants for the English throne — William of Normandy's sharp 
strategy — Harold named Edward the Confessor's successor — His troubles at 
home — William lays claim to his throne — He secures the Pope's blessing 
and prepares to invade England — He assembles a powerful army and 
lands at Hastings, England — Harold prepares to meet him — His position 
and equipments — A great battle impending — Composition of the Normans — 
They begin the attack — Stubborn fighting — King Harold badly wounded — 
A pretended Norman retreat towards evening lures his men out of their 
fortifications — They break ranks to pursue the fleeing enemy — The Normans 
turn fiercely on their pursuers, and rout them with terrible slaughter — Lead- 
ing Saxon nobles killed — William of Normandy, now William the Conqueror, 
King of England — Elevation of the Normans and depression of the Saxons — 
England a gainer by the conquest 183-196 

JERUSALEM, 1099 A. D. 

The Saracens still dominant in Asia and Africa — Europe under the sway of 
Rome — Pilgrimages to the Holy Sepulchre — Short-sighted conduct of the 
Turcomans — Indignities to the Pilgrims — Peter the Hermit and Walter the 
Penniless — The Crusades — Their object and character — The march to Pales- 
tine — Terrible reverses to the advance-guard — Great military leaders to the 
front, under Godfrey de Bouillon — Jerusalem besieged — Activity of the Infi- 
dels — Furious and long-continued assaults of the allied Christians — God- 
frey's vision — Renewed vigor of the attack — Jerusalem falls — Indiscrimin- 
ate massacre — Nearly a century of Christian rule — Rise of a new Infidel 
champion— His successes 1 97-208 

ACRE, 1191 A. D. 

Richard I. on England's throne — Rome preaches a new crusade, which he 
undertakes — Emperor Frederick of Germany and King Philip of France 
join him — Family quarrels — Acre besieged — Knightly conduct of Saladin — 
Incessant and terrific fighting^Surrender of Acre — Richard marches on to 



CONTENTS. II 

Ascalon — He wins the immortal name of Ccetir de Zw«— Concludes a truce 
with Saladin — Richard's domestic troubles — His untimely death — Enil of 
the Crusades a century later ,'109-21) 

CRESSY, 1346 A. D. 

The age of gunpowder — Hereditary trouble between England anfl ■ii'r?iiM.8— 
The latter country invaded and many peaceful villages sacked — Hnap of 
France raises an army and encounters the English at Cressy — King ii4\,ard 
gives his son a prominent command — Fearful odds against him — ^fumukcious 
approach of the French — The struggle begins — Moral eftct ot the English 
artillery — Heavy and determined fighting — Edward's message to ms son— • 
Utter defeat of the French — Mortality among their distinguished leaders—. 
The "Order of the Garter" — Other English successes iiS^227 

ORLEANS, 1429 A. D. 

Continued troubles between England and France concerning the crown .if the f^\ 
latter— France again invaded — Defeated and disheartencr", the Frenclt retire 
to Orleans — The English lay siege to it— Artillery used on both sides — 
Heroic defence of the city — Imbecility of the king — ^-fhree women to the 
rescue — Joan of Arc — Her history — In command of the French, and leading 
the assault, banner in hand — A terrible battle ensues — Complete overthrow of 
the English — Charles VII. crowned — Joan defeated in a subsequtnt battle and 
taken prisoner — Barbarously treated, and finally burnt by t^e English — The 
latter lose their hold on France , 228-242 

CONSTANTINOPLE, 1453 A. 1>. 
Foundations of the city — " The Empire of the World " — Its numerous sieges — 

Roman Catholic Churches — The latter fail to assist Lr. repelling the Infidel — ^ /></(? (\ yO 



Its decline in the fifteenth century — Differences \^tween the Greek and J 
Sultan Mohammed II. lays siege to it — His great army and ponderous artillery 



— His fleet — Brave defence of the garrison under Constantine — The offer of 
Mohammed declined — The final grand assault — The Janizaries — Death of 
Constantine — Surrender and pillage of the city — End of the empire of the 
East — Politic conduct of Mohammed Bujuk 243-250 



LEIPSIC, 1631 A. D. 

The Thirty Years' War the outgrowth of the Reformation — Great military 
chieftains — The countries involved — Gustavus Adolphus — His genius — Re- 
organization of the military system under him — His aid solicited by the Protes- 
tants of Germany, and his triumphant march to join them — Encounters the y 
Imperialists under Tilly at Leipsic — Confidence of the Utter.— Allied order 
of battle — Heavy fighting — Final and utter defeat of Tilly — Moral eflTecls of 
this great Protestant victory — New complications 25 1-264 



12 CONTENTS. 

LUTZEN, 1632 A. D. 

Gustavus Adolphus — Conqueror, judge, and lawgiver — Tilly's death and Wal- 
lenstein's hurailiarion — Character of the latter — His reinstatement to oppose 
his great rival — They meet at Liitzen — Strength of the opposing armies — 
Their relative posiiions and order of battle — The night before the battle — 
The allied army begins the attack — Wallenstein surprised — Death of Gusta- 
vus Adolphus — Renewed energy and feri-or of the allies — Pappenheim arrives 
— His death — Last hope of the Imperialists — Wallenstein retreats during the 
night — Again deposed from command — His assassination — New complica- 
tions — Turenne and Cond6 appear 265-278 

VIENNA, 16S3 A. D. 

Its position and liability to attack — Besieged by the Grand Vizier Kara Mus- 
tapha — Flight of the Emperor — Count Staremburg undertakes the defence — 
Vigorous investment by the Turks — Suffering in the city — Leopold appeals 
to John Sobieski for assistance — Three other powers join him — The march to 
relieve the beleaguered city — Attacking the Turks — Discipline and valor of 
the Polish cavalry — Rout and disorderly flight of the Turks — Vienna saved 
— End of Turkish aggression — Ingratitude of Austria 279-287 

NARVA, 1700 A. D. 

The successors of Gustavus Adolphus — Character of Charles XII. — Secret 
plots of neighboring sovereigns — Resolution of the Swedish King — He takes 
the field and humbles Denmark — Meanwhile Poland assails Riga, and Russia 
lays siege to Narva — Unmindful of Augustus of Poland, he moves on 
Peter the Great — Character and genius of the latter— Charles attacks the 
besiegers of Narva — Great disparity in the strength of the rival forces — 
Fiery impetuosity of Charles — One-third of the Russian army captured, and 
the remainder killed and dispersed — A glory to Sweden and a blessing in 
disguise to Russia — The prelude to Pultowa 288-297 

PULTOWA, 1709 A. D. ,^^\ 

Amazement of Europe — Philosophical view of Peter the Great — Charles turns ^^ . 
on Poland — Artifice of Augustus — He is dethroned — Charles is visited by 
Marlborough — The former's ambition — He invades Russia in midwinter 
— Marches on Moscow — Winning victories everywhere — Running short of 
supplies his gene«als urge him to await the arrival of the Polish allies and 
his provision trains — Incapable of realizing his danger, he immediately turns 
south and marches into the wilds of the Ukraine — Sufferings and demorali- 
zation of his army — Besieges Pultowa — Great odds against him — The 
Swedes overwhelmed — Charles wounded — His flight to Turkey — His sub- 
sequent career and tragic death — Policy of Peter the Great — His great 
achievements 298-307 



CONTENTS. ^-_. 13 

.. '^ 
BLENHEIM, 1704 A. D. 

A war contemporaneous with that of Charles XII. and Peter the Great— The 
Golden Age of France— Her great captains— Grasping policy of "Le Grand 
Monarque"—h. powerful league formed against him— Death of William III. 
of England— The brilliant Duke of Marlborough in command of the Confed- 
erates—His character— Influence of his wife at court— Eugene of Savoy 
second in command— They are everywhere successful— The French and Bava- 
rians concentrating at Blenheim— Careful preparations on both sides— Irish- 
men in the French service— The great struggle begins— The earlier advantages 
withtheFrench-Marlborough'smistakensupposition— The British linerecoils ^ 

—Eugene finally turns the allied left— Attack on the French centre— The 
English cavalry complete their defeat- Marshal Tallard a prisoner — The 
gathering darkness favors the escape of his shattered army— The power of 
Louis XIV. broken — A glorious victory for England 308-328 

RAMILIES, 1706 A. D. 

After their defeat at Blenheim the French march into Holland— Honors to 
Marlborough at Vienna — The rival armies confront each other at Ramilies 

Their strength— The destinies of the Netherlands, the issue— The French 

overconfident — The attack begins at noon— Villeroy, the French commander, 
misled by Marlborough's movements — Prince Eugene absent on other duty 
Hard fighting — The Dutch and German cavalry in confusion — Marlbor- 
ough's personal danger — French lines driven back and defeated after three 
hours' fighting — Marlborough's unerring judgment — Effect of his wife's impe- 
rious temper — Serious French losses — The waning power of Louis XIV. re- 
ceives another blow — Exultation in England 329-33^ 

OUDENARDE, 1708 A. D. 

Bitter experience of Louis XIV. — Reverses in Spain — His army again in the 
field — Dissensions among the Confederates in the Low Countries — Marl- 
borough and Eugene again to the front — The French lay siege to Oudenarde 
— Its position — Incompetence of the Duke of Burgundy — The French out- 
mancEuvred — Amazed at the rapid movements of Marlborough — Vendome 
attempts to retrieve their evil fortunes — Brilliant work of the Confederate 
cavalry — Renewed blundering of Burgundy — Furious charging and counter- 
charging — Bravery and firmness of the Confederate cavalry leaders — The 
decisive move of the battle at 5 p. M. — The last hope of Burgundy gone — 
Fearful carnage on both sides — Darkness saves the French from utter annihi- 
lation — Louis XIV. makes proposals of peace — His efforts to recall Eugene 
of Savoy — Public thanksgiving in England — Marlborough's victory at Mal- 
plaquet — His invincibility in the field — His troubles at home 339~352 

LEUTHEN, 1757 A. D. 

Frederick the Great, the most renowned general of this period prolific of great, 
warriors — An age of three great epochs — Eccentricities of Frederick's father 
2 



^4 CONTENTS. 

— ^The Seven Years' War — Prussia's perfect army — Menaced by encircling 
Europe — Frederick's tactics — He darts upon the Austrians first — The great 
battle of Leutfien a masterpiece of movements, manoeuvres and resolution — 
Preliminai'v movements and incidents — Frederick hurries on to Leuthen to 
give battle to an overpowering force of Austrians and Saxons — His movements 

amaze his enemies — Daun superseded and his counsels ignored The 

Austrians march forward to open battle with Frederick — His memorable ad- 
dress — His strategy — His far-famed oblique order — Consternation of tlie 
Austrians — Their left wing in disorder — Terrible fighting around Leuthen — 
Lucchesi trapped and kilted — Utter rout of the A.ustrians — Their enormous 
losses — The most decisive of all of Frederick's victories — Maria Theresa 
relieves Prince Charles and reinstates Daun — Prussia once more in possession 
of Silesia 353-368 

KUNERSDORF, 1759 A. D. 

Ine Russians now assail Frederick — The bloody and destructive battle of 
iiorndorf^His fourth campaign — He introduces to the military world the first 
battery of horse artillery — Frankfort-on-the Oder seized — Location of Kuners- 
dorf, and the position of the allied Austrians and Russians — Frederick again 
surprises them — He meets with an intelligent peasant whom he interviews — 
He finally storms and captures the Muhlberg — The grandest sight of Kuners- 
dorf — Soltikoff rallies his Russians — The Prussians repeatedly repulsed — 
Loudon's superb Austrian grenadiers — Despair of Frederick — "The conse- 
quences of this battle will be worse than the battle itself" — His army prac- 
tically annihilated — The blackest day Prussia had ever known — Russia and 
Austria fail to follow up their great opportunity — A barren triumph — Jealousy 
in the Russian ranks robs Loudon of his due merit — Frederick himself again 
in six weeks 369-385 

TORGAU, 1760 A. D. 

"the inaction of Frederick's adversaries enable him to assemble another army 
— His fifth campaign — His fortunes at their lowest ebb — Fairly in the toils 
of encircling Europe he turns upon his enemies like a hunted lion — Daun 
again in the field at Torgau — Frederick outwits him another time — The 
situation — The battle opens — Ziethen's premature move — Frederick furious 
— Magnificent charge of the Prussian grenadiers — Terrible slaughter of 
Frederick's choicest troops — Daun's left in grievous disorder — Ziethen's 
night attack — Darkness and confusion — Complete rout of the Austrians — 
The pursuit— The king embraces Ziethen — The treaty of peace — France gives 
up the contest — Frederick the Great, lord of Silesia — End of the " Seven 
Years' War " — Prussia the acknowledged military leader of Europe. . . .386-399 

BUNKER HILL, 1775 A. D. 
Quarrel between Government and Colony — Eloquence of Patrick Henry — The 
appeal to arms — The Minute Men — The British at Salem — The march to 
Concord — The alarm at Lexington — The British attack — The avengers — 



15 

CONTENTS. 



The British retreat-The despised militia-The guns of the fleet-The 
Breach widening-The contagion of patriotism-Connecticut sends troops 
-Israel Putnam-New Hampshire and John Stark-New \ ork m hne- 
Baltimore sends men-The Patriots at Cambridge-Ethen Allen at Ticon- 
deroga-At Crown Point-Benedict Arnold-The Provincial Congress- 
General Gage-His offer of Pardon-Prescott sent to Bunker H>ll-The 
march-The Hill fortified-Discovered by the British-Entrench.ng under 
fire-Gage sends troops-Prescott halts the British advance-Stark joins 
the Patriots-Warren volunteers-Pomeroy arrives-The first attack- 
Charlestown burned-The Patriots hold their fire-The BrU.sh run-The 
second attack-The British again defeated-Clinton brings more troops- 
The third attack-The breastwork destroyed-Americans short of ammum- 
tion-One last volley-Hand to hand-At the point of the bayonet-No 

pursuit-British losses-The American dead-Effect of the battle 400-40P 

SARATOGA, I777 A. D. i > 

^e story of the revolution Sar^ga one o^^^sy. ^^^ ^j^J^i 
ties of the World "—Sketch of Burgoyne— He is opposed to me , 
o Ind ans a^ allies-Account of the opening of the c.mpa.gn-Fa. lure f he 
BnUsh Expeditions of St. Leger and Baume-General Starke s br.lhant ser- 
vices— Gates supersedes Schuyler-The simation on his arnval-Burgoyne s 
position-Strength of his forces-His attack on Arnold's div.s.on-The Brit- 
ish repulsed-Enthusiasm caused by Arnold's appearance-Cnt.cal situation 
of the British-Failure of Clinton to relieve them-Their offer to capitulate 
-Gates finally accedes to their proposition-The refusal of Congress to ratify 
his terms-Backbone of British aggression broken-France comes to the aid^ ^^ 
of the Colonies— The scale turned 410-42 

MARENGO, 1800 A. D. V '^^ 

Childhood of Napoleon Bonaparte-His character as described by the Military ^ ^ ^ 

School-His predilection for artiUery-A lieutenant in this branch-H.s early ^ 

career-Backed by prominent and influential men, he obtains promotion over 
others above his rank-His vehement ambition aroused to feverish activity— 
In command of the army operating in Italy-He overthrows five Austrian 
armies in succession-Amazing the world by his marvellous sk.ll-His Egyp- 
tian campaigns—First Consul under the new constitution-His wonderful 
passa'ge of the Alps— Confronts de Melas, the veteran Austrian commander— 
Lannes and Desaix with Napoleon-Relative strength of the opposing armies 
-They meet on the plains of Marengo, Italy— Three able generals, Lannes, 
Victor, and Murat,with the First Consul-The Austrians' first attack a failure 
—Wearing out the French— The day going badly with them— The " Man of 
Destiny" on the scene— Lannes' superb courage saves the army from total 
destniction-De Melas considers the day won— Reckoning without his host 
and Desaix— Arrival of the latter with his corps on the battle-field—" T/iere 
is yet time to win another "—Death of Desaix— Fearful rout of the Austrians 
—Their army in Napoleon's grasp—" What a glorious day ' '—Marengo gives 
France an emperor ^ ^~^5 



i6 



CONTENTS. 



AUSTERLITZ, 1805 A. D. 

rhe honors conferred on Napoleon, and the extension of his power excite the 
jealousy ot England and Austria — The former his most implacable enemy — 
The coalition against him — Concentrating the French army at Boulogne — 
His strategy — lie falls suddenly upon General Mack in the Castle of Ulm, 
compels him to surrender, and then seizes Vienna — Russia to the rescue — 
Strength of the Grand Army of the Empire — Famous French leaders in 
command — The opposing army — A look at the battle-field — " Behold the Sun 
of Austerlitz "— The anniversary of his coronation — "Forward, Soult, cut 
them in two ! " — Terrible fighting — The Russian centre pierced — A tremen- 
dous cavalry fight — Forty thousand horsemen engaged — The infantry and artil- 
lery cease fighting to look on — The Russian right ruined by Lannes, the hero 
of Montebello — Second great cavalry combat — Annihilation of the Russians 
and Austrians — Napoleon's relentless severity — " Soldiers, I am satisfied with 
you " — End of the third and greatest coalition against France, after three 
months' duration — Austria thoroughly humbled — The treaty of Presburg — 
" The Confederation of the Rhine " 459-484 



JENA, 1806 A. D. 

p"ne diaad of Napoleon's ambitious designs — He sets up kingdoms for his 
brothe/s — Prussia declares war against him — The former still living on the 
reputation of Frederick the Great — Napoleon's tactics again misleads his 
enemies — Strength and movements of the contending armies — Concentrating 
at Jena — The old Duke of Brunswick in chief command of the Prussians 
— The king and court in confusion — The French on a commanding height at 
Jena — " Vive Z' Etnpereur" — Ney's eagerness — A bloody and terrible com- 
bat rages — Tht Prussians defeated and panic-stricken — The Saxons the last to 
yield — Bravery of the Prussian officers — Mortality among them — Summary 
oi Prussia's lossfcs.— Davout's decisive work at Auerstadt 485-505 



AUERSTADT, 1806 A. D. 

Davout encounters a iurge division of the Prussians at Auerstadt — Brunswick's 
great blunder — Napoleon's orders to Davout — Character of the latter — Pit- 
ted against enormous odds — Bernadotte fails to lend him assistance — Marshal 
" Vorwaerts" appears for the first time against the French — His character- 
istic traits — A tremendous struggle around Hassenhausen — The key of the 
situation — The Duke of Brunswick mortally wounded — Eliicher's ineftectual 
charges — His protestations in council unheeded — A retreat decided upon — 
Davout leads a charge — A decisive and glorious victory — Sore trials of the 
King of Prussia — His army annihilated — The Frencli in Berlin — Napoleon's 
next move on Russia S°^5 '9 




AMCIENT ARMS AND ACCOUTKKilENTS. 

S8 (^For description, see next page.) 



Ancient Arms and Accoutremetits 

Numbers refer to Illuslrations on preceding page. 



\. 


Shield of Macedonian 


Hy. 


25. Roman Helmet. 




paspist. 




26. Persian 


2. 


Early Greek Helmet. 




27. " Shield. 


3- 


Later " 




28. " Bow. 


4- 


Early " " 




29. " Shield. 


5- 


Greek Shield. 




30, 31. Roman Lances. 


6. 


Etruscan Sword. 




32, 33, 34- Roman Field Stana- 


7- 


Persian " 




ards. 


8. 


Etruscan " 




35, 36. Roman Lances. 


9- 


Roman Helmet. 




37, 38, 39. Roman Field Stand- 


lO. 


Breast Shield. 




ards. 


ti, 


12, 13, 14. Greek Lances. 


40. Roman Shield. 


15- 


Roman Helmet. 




41. " Armor. 


1 6. 


Greek Sword. 




42. " Shield. 


17- 


" Dagger. 




43. " Armor. 


i8. 


" Double-edged Sword. 


44. " Scutum. 


19. 


Persian Scabbard. 




45,46. " Falchions. 


20 


Etruscan Shield. 




47. Battering Ram and Tower 


21 


Roman Helmet. 




48. Roman Falchion. 


22 


23. Persian Helmets. 




49. Ballista. 


24 


Roman Armor. 







19 




ARMS AND ACCOUTREMENTS OF THE MIDDLE AGKti. 
(20) (-Fw description, see next page.) 



Arms and Accoutrements of the Middle Ages. 

Niwibers refer to Illustratio7ts oft precedvig pcige. 



I. 


Neck Helmet. 


28. 


Tournament Armor. 


2. 


Shoulder and Arm Shield. 


29. 


Blunt Practice Lance. 


3. 


4. Knee Armor. 


30. 


Light Service Lance. 


5- 


Kettle Drum. 


31- 


Blunt Practice " 


6. 


Long Bow. 


32. 


Light Service " 


7- 


Cross " 


33. 


Double-handed Kris Sword. 


8. 


Arbalest. 


34,35. Ecus, or Shield nth and 


9. 


10, II. Arrows. 




1 2th Centuries. 


12. 


Herald's Trumpet. 


36. 


Braconniere. 


13- 


Signal Horn. 


37- 


Costume of Knights of 13th 


14. 


Helmet. 




Century. 


IS- 


Neck Armor. 


38. 


Dagger. 


16, 


17. Helmets. 


39- 


Stylett. 


18, 


19. Sabres. 


40. 


Martel de Fer. 


20. 


Shield of 13th Century. 


41. 


Francisques. 


21. 


" 1 2th " 


42. 


Lochaber Axe, 


22. 


" lith 


43- 


Stylett. 


23- 


Helmet of 1 2th " 


44- 


Dagger. 


24. 


Double-handed Long Sword 


45- 


Crow's Foot, 


25, 


26, 27. Battle Lances. 








ARMS AND ACCOUTEEMENTS, 15TH TO ISTH CENTURIES. 
^2) {For description, see next piye^ 



Arms and Accoutrements, T5th to i8th Centuries. 

Numbers refer to Illustrations on preceding page. 



Pistolet, 1 8th Century. 1 35- 

Carbine, 17th Century. 30- 

Espingole. 37- 

Matchlock Gun. 3°- 

Gun Rest. 39- 

Marrocain. 4°- 

Flint Lock, 1 8th Century. 41 • 

Battle Axe. 42' 

Hussite Mace. 43 

Lance. 44- 

Hussite Mace. 45- 

Halberd. 46. 

Hussite Mace. 47- 

Halberd. 48- 
Battle Axe. 

Cabasset, i6th Century. 49- 

Italian Hat, i8th Century. 50, 

Hessian Cap, i8th Century. 53> 

Cabasset, 15th Century. 56- 

Polish Hat, i8th Century. 57- 

, Dragoon Hat. S^- 

, Cossack Cap, i8th Century. 59. 

. Swiss Infantry Hat. 

. English Cavalier Hat. 60. 

, 26. Cavalry Casque, IS thCen- 61, 

tury. 

Hussar Cap, i8th Century. 64. 

Chasseur Cap, i8th Century. 65. 

Sappeur Cap, i8th Century. 66. 

Russian Grenadier Cap, i8th 67, 

Century. 68, 

31. French Headpiece, 15th Cen- 6<) 

tury. 

32. Shako, 72 

33. Loading Shovd. 173 

34. Wiper. I 



23- 

24. 

25> 

27. 
28. 
29. 
3°- 



Ramrod. 

Priming Fork. 

German 12-Pounder, lAja. 

Herisson. 

Mortar, i6th Century. 

Round Shot. 

Shrapnel Shot. 

Fire Ball. 

Chain Shot. 

Bar Shot. 

Round Shot. 

Hand Grenade. 

Bomb Shell. 

Prussian Cannon, i8th Cen- 
tury. 

Priming Rod. 

51, 52. War Rockets. 

54, 55. Storming Pikes. 

Danish Cannon, 1713. 

Powder Cask. 

Swiss Cannon, isth Century. 

English Howitzer, i8th Cen- 
tury. 

Halberdier, isth Century. 

62, 63. Swords, 15th and I6t^ 
Centuries. 

Bayonet, i8th Century. 

Armor, 15 th Century. 

Powder Flask. 

Bullet Mould. 

Powder Flask. 
, 70, 71. Swords, 17th and i8th 

Centuries. 
. Sabre. 
. Spanish Arquebusier,i6thCeap 

tury. 



23 



FAMOUS AND DECISIVE 

BATTLES OF THE WORLD 




MARATHON. 

490 B. C. 

,IVE hundred years before the birth of Christ 
the known world was almost one vast em- 
pire, with King Darius, of Persia, at its head. 
His possessions included all of Asia west of 
the upper Ganges, all of Northern Africa, 
far west as where Tripoli now stands, and 
much of European Russia and Turkey. 
Rome had not yet risen to power or great- 
ness, but between the dominions of Darius 
and the vast field of Europe there lay a little rocky peninsula, 
jutting down into the sea, washed by the ^gean on the east, the 
Mediterrariean on the south and west. This was Greece, a con- 
federation of sturdy little states, and Greece it was that proved 
the sentinel that stopped the way of the Eastern invader. But 
for Greece all Europe would have been overrun by the conquer- 
ing armies of Persia. 

Immense wealth and unlimited forces were at the disposal of 
the Great King, as Darius was termed. He had conquered 
nation after nation around him, but up to 500 B. C. had made 
no aggressive move at the expense of Greece proper. Macedon 
and Thrace to the north of it had succumbed, and most of the 
isles of the Grecian Archipelago, in the ^gean Sea, were sub- 
dued. Vague rumors had reached the Persian court of the 
warlike character of some of the states of the Peloponnesus, as 
the lower peninsula was called, and that northeast of the isthmur 



26 MARATHON. 

of Corinth lay another powerful and vigorous little common- 
wealth, Athens. The Greeks had established colonies all along 
the coasts of Asia IVIinor, and through them much of the civil- 
ization and something of the literature of Persia had drifted 
into the young confederacy, and though Sparta repelled all that 
savored of the luxury and effeminacy of Persian civilization, 
Athens had been more eager to learn and to adopt. 

Presently Persia began to demand tribute of these colonies. 
The colonies resisted, and called for aid from the mother coun- 
try, and a desultory warfare sprang up along the shores of Asia 
Minor. As a rule the Greeks were defeated. Persia's people 
were numerous, the colonists few, and their troops untrained 
irregulars, but the ill feeling between Greece and Persia was 
rapidly becoming intensified. Years before, when on an expedi- 
tion to conquer Scythia, Darius had nearly been sacrificed by 
the attempted treachery of a young Athenian officer, Miltiades, 
who at the time was governor of the Thracian Chersonese, and 
had to serve under the Persian king. Against him he ever after- 
wards cherished a bitter resentment. Then in 510 B. C, after a 
mighty effort, the Athenians had succeeded in banishing the 
tyrant Hippias, who took refuge in the Persian dominions, and 
being a man of vast energy and intrigue, set to work to revenge 
himself on Athens by inducing Darius to invade and punish her. 
Artaphernes, Satrap of Sardis, demanded of Athens that Hippias 
should be reinstated. Athens refused, and voted Hippias a rene- 
gade and traitor. Then the Ionic Greeks revolted against Arta- 
phernes and Persia. Athens lent her aid, and for years Persia 
was involved in a stubborn contest for the resubjugation of the 
Greek colonies. 

During this war Sardis, the capital of Artaphernes, was cap- 
tured and burned by a small force of Athenians, and now the 
rage of Darius against Attica was complete. Barely waiting to 
complete the subjugation of the lonians, he despatched Mar- 
donius with a powerful fleet of triremes and a large army to sack 
Athens, and take or destroy its inhabitants ; but dire misfortune 
overwhelmed the fleet. A terrible storm off" Mount Athos 
wrecked the armadaj and strewed the shores with the corpses of 



ATHENS AND SPARTA BEFIANT. 27 

twenty thousand seamen, while the camp of the land force was 
surprised by night. Mardonius was wounded, and returned to 
Persia broken and dejected. 

And now King Darius rallied all his energies for a final effort. 
Orders were sent to all his seaports. Vessels of war, triremes, 
and transports were rapidly built and launched, and from far and 
near his allies poured in their contingents. The whole area of 
the Peloponnesus could not equal that of the smallest of the 
principalities that bent the knee to Persia, and it looked like a 
war of all Asia against one little state. Greece was wild with 
alarm at the news ; only Athens and Sparta seemed to retain 
either spirit or composure. 

As a preliminary, Darius sent heralds to all the Greek isles 
and cities to demand the customary tribute of submission, earth 
and water, and both from sea and mainland token after token 
was rendered with eager haste. But no word came from either 
Athens or Sparta. At last Darius heard that the citizens had 
seized the persons of his heralds, heaped indignities upon them, 
cast them into dungeons or wells, and this was an outrage equal- 
ling the violation of a modern flag of truce. It was now war to 
the knife. 

Through Hippias Darius learned that the regular army of 
Athens consisted of only ten thousand hoplites, heavy-armed 
infantry. Of course he knew that community of interest would 
bring reinforcements from other states, and that vigorous defence 
might be expected. He intended to conquer all Greece, but to 
crush to atoms the power of the defiant young states that had 
dared outrage his heralds. 

For this purpose the force which was assembled on the great 
plain of Cilicia and in the adjacent waters was simply overpow- 
ering. Six hundred armed triremes or ships of war with three 
banks of oars, and full as many transports for horse and foot, 
were moored along the shores, and in the spring of 490 B. C, 
the greatest flotilla and the most numerous army ever yet massed, 
even by mighty Persia, set sail for Greece. The command was 
vested jointly and equally in two men, an arrangement that in 
itself was faulty in the last degree, but appears to have been 



28 



MARATHON. 



made for political reasons. For the first time in Persian history 
a soldier not native Persian was raised to the highest rank. 
Datis, a Mede of great valor and long-tried excellence in war, 
was the first named. He commanded the respect and confidence 
of the entire army, but Darius, though wishing to avail himself 
of the great ability' of this general, dare not trust him entirely, 
and so named as his colleague Artaphernes, son of the Satrap 
of Sardis, who had done so much to bring about the war, and 
whose loyalty was unquestioned. His son therefore was named 
to act with Datis, but more probably as the representative of the 
royal or noble families at the front, than because of any known 
ability or skill. In all that followed, judging from the accounts 
of the only historians who dwell at all upon the campaign — the 
Greeks — Artaphernes seems to sink out of sight, and Datis only 
is recognized as the moving spirit. 

His orders were explicit. Generally to subdue all Greece. 
Specially to destroy Athens and Eretria (who had acted together 
in burning Sardis), and bring their people as slaves into the 
presence of the Great King. 

Datis decided on a different route from that taken by Mar- 
donius. He coasted along Asia Minor westward until he came 
to Samos, then turned square across the ^gean. Island after 
island fell before him, and yielded conscripts to his army. Naxos 
was burned, Delos spared as the birthplace of Apollo, and at 
last the fleet anchored off the shores of the long, finger-like 
mountainous spur that stretches down along the coasts of north- 
ern Greece, the island of EubcEa, and hereon, facing the narrow 
channel that separates the island from the mainland, lay the city 
of Eretria. It too fell before the overwhelming force of Datis, 
and its people were dragged off as prisoners to neighboring isles 
to await the return of the triumphant Persians from the destined 
sack of Athens. 

Late in August, unopposed, Median Datis disembarked his 
immense army upon the plain of Marathon, with the capital, 
Athens, only one day's march away. Literally, thus far, had he 
carried out his orders. Easy victory had everywhere attended 
him ; and as his brilliant host marched forth upon the plain, 



THE ARMY OF ATTICA. 2& 

stretching for miles along the shore, no wonder he looked upon 
further triumph as already within his grasp. Behind him, thickly 
dotted over the ^gean, were the conquered isles, now turned 
into supply depots or prison pens. Along the shore were beached 
his thousand ships. Between him and the broad expanse of 
plain to the westward lay his great army. Beyond his lines only 
a short mile of unobstructed meadow there rose pafallel to his 
front a sharply defined range of hills; behind that barrier, Athens. 
In slow, stately ceremony had he accomplished the disembark- 
ation. Once ashore, no signal came for the expected advance. 
He cared to give none till every detail of preparation was com- 
plete. Hippias, too, advised the policy of delay. That arch 
traitor well knew the under-current of disloyalty beneath the 
tide of Athenian patriotism. " Spare your soldiery," he urged ■, 
" wait but a few days and your mere presence here will fan into 
flame the embers of insurrection, and Athens herself will open 
unto you." And so in idleness and easy confidence the Persian 
host was disposed along the plain, and the golden moment passed. 
Before the setting of a second sun the thickly wooded barrier to 
the front blazed with the sudden sheen of spear, shield, and 
helmet, and the army of Attica appeared before their eyes. 

Each one of the ten tribes of Attica contributed its thousanc} 
to the regular army, and these were the men who marched fon 
ward to the crest of Pentelicus — the low range that stood between 
their city and the plain — and there confronted the countless 
thousands of Persia. Of the exact numbers of Datis on the day 
of Marathon we have no accurate information. Herodotus, the 
most truthful of historians of the day, limits his land force to one 
hundred and ten thousand, while the poets and the boastful 
legends of local writers carry the number up to half a million. 
At least estimate it more than five times outnumbered the force 
Athens was able to bring against him, for, in addition to her 
ten thousand heavy infantry, the regulars, there were ten thou- 
sand light troops. The former were rigorously trained to athletic 
pursuits, were stalwart, sinewy, warlike men, armed with long 
and heavy spears and short swords for close combat, equipped 
for defensive purposes with heavy helmets, breastplate, greaves 



30 MARATHON. 

for the legs, and carrying on the left arm a massive shield that 
well-nigh covered the entire person. The light troops wore no 
defensive armor, but carried javelins and short swords. All were 
footmen (Athens had no cavalry) ; and this was the slender force 
with which they hoped to repel the advance of the Asiatic host. 
The far-famed plain of Marathon lay about twenty-five miles 
northeast of Athens, separated from it, as has been said, by the 
range called Pentelicus. It was nearly a level, except where a 
water-course, dry through most of the year, ran like a shallow 
groove from west to east through the middle of the plain. From 
the foothills to the sea in the centre was about two miles ; but 
north and south, six miles apart, the hills swept around to the 
eastward, hemming in the level ground and dipping their bases 
in the spray. At both ends, north and south, lay treacherous 
marshes, impassable for horsemen and forming admirable protec- 
tion for the flanks of an army in position. They stretched some 
distance towards one another and limited the dry ground between 
them to a front of not more than three miles ; and here it was, 
half a mile advanced from the shore, that Datis had drawn up his 
line of battle. Just where he posted the fine cavalry he had 
brought with him from Asia we have no account. It has been 
asserted by some historians that much of this arm had been left 
behind in the various islands to hunt down the hiding inhabi- 
tants, and that but a small portion of his horsemen appeared at 
Marathon. 

Soon as it became known that Datis was threatening the coast, 
Athens sent couriers southwest to Sparta, invoking her aid ; but 
the Persians landed on the sixth day of the moon, and the Spar- 
tans were compelled by religious superstition never to send forth 
a hostile army until after the full, and refused to deviate from their 
custom even in such emergency as this. Then it was that the 
great men of Athens sprang to the fore, and foremost among 
them was Miltiades, the same who had won the enmity of Darius 
years before. As a soldier and general this man well deserved 
the confidence reposed in him, though in personal and political 
history he proved to be far from pure. The delay of Sparta 
seemed only to add to his vehement energy and courage. The 



PLAT^A TO THE RESCUE. 31 

eleven generals of Athens met in immediate council, and Mil- 
tiades became the chief speaker. His service with the Persian 
army in the Scythian campaign had taught him contempt for 
much of its material, and he sturdily proclaimed his belief in the 
ability of Athens to defeat Datis then and there, and so urgent 
and earnest was he in his reasoning that he carried conviction to 
the minds of four at least of his colleagues. On taking the votes 
of the ten generals it was found that Miltiades, Aristides, and 
Themistocles, the three leading men of Athens at the time, with 
two other generals, were for immediate attack on Datis as he lay 
along the sea at Marathon. The other five generals voted for 
delay until aid could reach them. The deciding vote now lay 
with the Polemarch Callimachus, and to him Miltiades appealed 
with such vehement soldierly eloquence that Callimachus voted 
fight. 

Then came a welcome accession to their ranks. The little city 
of Platsa, over in Boeotia tb the northwest of Athens, had once 
besought her aid when she was being crushed by a powerful 
neighbor — Thebes — and Athens had gone to the rescue. Now, 
as ever afterwards, Platsea came to stand by Athens. She sent a 
sturdy little contingent of one thousand heavy infantry — all she 
could spare — and these soldierly fellows, in their leather helmets, 
marched in along the slopes of Pentelicus and were posted on the 
extreme left of the Athenian line. 

And now there was inaction for several days. Datis was in 
no hurry to bring on an engagement. Miltiades was eager, but 
the law of Athens required that each of her eleven generals 
should command one day at a time in rotation, and he could not 
assume the authority to order attack until his day for supreme 
command arrived. It is asserted that Aristides and others 
waived their rights in his favor, urging him to lead on when he 
would and pledging earnest support. It was well for Miltiades 
that he had such patriotic and magnanimous associates. Calli- 
machus was noble by birth, noble by nature, and brave and wise 
as he was noble. Aristides and Themistocles were both men 
of the people, widely differing in character, and destined to be 
bitter rivals subsequently. Aristides had no superior in patri- 



32 MARATHON. 

otism, in nobility of character, and integrity. He was surnamed 
" The Just." Themistocles was superior to him in briUiancy, 
readiness, and tact, was besides an innate poUtician, a man of 
boundless ambition, but of so jealous a nature that the honors 
heaped on Miltiades after Marathon deprived him of sleep. In 
all his public life, despite his eminent services, there clung to him 
a suspicion of corruption and extravagance that ultimately was 
realized to the full and proved his ruin. He swindled his people 
and died in disgrace. Of the other generals we have very little 
record. 

From the heights on which they stood Miltiades could mark 
the indications of easy confidence which pervaded the entire Per- 
sian camp. Directly in his front, occupying the Asiatic post of 
honor — the centre — were the native Persians and the Sacse, the 
very finest troops of the line, the only ones probably inspired 
with any national pride or patriotism. On these were deployed 
the vast army of auxiliaries, " mountaineers of Hyrcania and 
Afghanistan, black archers of Ethiopia, swordsmen from the 
banks of the Indus, the Oxus, the Euphrates, and the Nile," — a 
superb army in point of numbers and brilliancy of attire; but no 
defensive armor was there to be seen, no protection beyond the 
light archer's shield. Their arms, too, were weak and puerile 
compared with those of Greece — bows and arrows, light javelins, 
and curved cimeters. There was nothing to dread in their equip- 
ment, and Miltiades knew it. It only remained for him so to 
dispose his men as to make the best use of their limited numbef 
against the overwhelming force of the foe. 

Here he had the advantage. He could see every move of the 
enemy, while his own were hidden by the heights and the thick 
growth of olive, pine, and cedar with which they were covered. 
Everything goes to show that to the element of surprise Miltiades 
owed much of the success that awaited him. 

The ordinary formation of the Athenian phalanx of that day 
was in eight ranks, but in order to cover the Persian front Mil- 
tiades was compelled to reduce the depth to four ranks. His plan 
was daring. Placing Callimachus in command of the right wing 
with massed phalanxes in heavy charging columns, the Plataeans 



THE SUDDEN ATTACK. 33 

and two Athenian tribes being similarly disposed on the left, he 
deployed his remaining troops between them in long, slender 
line of battle and gave this line in charge of those steadfast sol- 
diers, Aristides and Themistoclcs. With steady generalship in 
the centre he had sublime confidence in the result. 

It must have been about three o'clock on the afternoon of the 
loth (probably) of August. Thousand.s of the Persian soldiery 
were dozing, gambling, or sleeping away the hot summer day, 
the thousand ships of the fleet dotted the curving shores or 
danced upon the blue waters of the bay ; the tents of the Asian 
host stretched like a great populous city along the plain ; arms 
were cast aside, all thought of danger banished. Before them 
stretched that long level barren back to the mountains ; and even 
were Attica to advance, long before her lines could cross that 
plain the troops of Asia could spring to arms, form their ranks 
and welcome them with deadly flights of arrows — that is, pro- 
vided Greece advanced to the attack, as was her custom, singing 
her war-songs, sweeping in slow, stately march. 

Suddenly there comes a chorus of warning yells from the open 
plain, suddenly the camp rings from right to left with the wild 
blare of horns and trumpets sounding the alarm. Hastily the 
warriors spring to arms and run to the lines. Sentinels and 
pickets are rushing in — no use for them to stop in vain attempt 
to stem the coming tide ; they dart through friendly openings in 
the forming ranks, and Persia looks forth upon the unobstructed 
plain. There, midway to Pentelicus, with burnished helmet, 
shield, and spear, with ringing war-cry and serried ranks that 
sweep the full length of those of Asia, with perfect alignment 
and terrific impetus, for the first time in her history Greece come.'^ 
charging at the run. 

" Gods ! are they madmen ?" is the cry. So few in number — 
dare they attack ? 

On they come, unhesitating, unshaken. The solid earth trem- 
bles beneath their tramp. The red sun behind them glares 
through the dust-cloud at their backs. Flash go the feathered 
arrows from thousands of Persian bows as the mail-clad lines 
eome dancing into range ; but they rattle harmless upon helm 
3 



34 MARATHON. 

and shield, and with ringing cheer the athletes of Attica charge 
headlong upon the unready lines of astonished Asia. 

Here in the centre stand the best and bravest Knighthood of 
The Great King, the elite of a superb army ; but against this 
rush and against those levelled spears they for the moment can 
oppose nothing but puny dart and unprotected breast. Down go 
the foremost, and over their prostrate forms sweep the ranks of 
Attica. Down goes the second line, where line has formed at 
all ; but with all its wild impetus and glorious manhood and 
courage, Greece is driving home into a solid mass of humanity, 
for the foremost recoil upon their backers, and they in turn upon 
rallying thousands in the rear. The great spears — so terrible 
against the leading lines — must be withdrawn before they can 
repeat their work, and even then are becoming unwieldy in the 
surging crowd that now envelops the phalanx ; and now the 
Persians sweep in between the spear-heads and assail with cim- 
eter and dagger the armored Greeks. Dozens crowd upon one, 
and the triumphant rMsh of the Athenian centre is at last 
checked. The lines o'' Aristides and Themistocles are brought 
to a stand. 

And now is Persia'? turn. The archers spring in, delivering 
their fire almost in the faces of their foes, while the knights and 
the SacjE j^re plyin,?- cimeter and dagger. The slender line of 
Athens is slowiy. crowded. • back by the weight in front, but 
steadily, slowly, for their gcne/als are watching every mo\-e. 
The lines are unbroken^tlie organization is maintained, but, face 
to the foe, battling manfully, the Grecian centre is undoubtedly 
falling back across the plain of Marathon and along the dry 
water-course that divides it. And now, with rage and tumult, 
Persia follows. Order, rank, discipline, all forgotten, if ever 
known, they press in wild disorder upon the retiring spears. 
Leaving camp, leaving all behind them, bent only on the annihi- 
lation of that daring foe, looking neither to right nor to left, 
caring naught for comrade assistance in this supreme hour of 
triumph, reckless of their own flanks and rear, the Persian army 
of the centre is artfully enticed out upon the open plain. 

Meantime, how has it fared with Callimachus — how with the 



RETREAT OF THE PERSIANS. 3g 

Platffians ? Opposed by full as many foes as the centre, they 
have to deal only with hirelings or unwilling conscripts, even 
with kinsmen— Greeks of Ionia. These fall before them, barely 
striking a blow, and on the right and left the auxiliaries of Persia 
are overthrown and hurled back by the deep charging columns 
of Attica and Platsea. Pursued by the leading phalanx, they 
dare not stop ; and now, on right and left, except the leading 
phalanx, the deep masses halt, and face inwards. Between them 
the Sacae and the Knights, the guards and the flower of the Per- 
sian army, are being lured out from their supports, pursuing in 
a blind ecstacy of victory. 

All too late Datis sees the fatal blunder. North and south 
the spearmen of Plataea and Athens have closed upon the surg- 
ing mass of his best and bravest. On three sides the resistless 
infantry of Greece hems in the hapless Persians, and now the 
carnage begins. For a while the Asiatic host fights bravely, 
desperately, but soon turns and flees for the ships and safety. 
From north to south, along the plain of Marathon, the entire 
army of Persia is in mad retreat. 

But brave men are yet there. While some launch the vessels, 
embark the few horsemen and the wounded, thousands face the 
charging lines and keep the Greeks at bay. Bent on the capture 
of the ships and the annihilation of the army of invasion, Mil- 
tiades furiously urges on his lines. A desperate hand-to-hand 
conflict is maintained even in the surf along the shore as the 
vessels are launched upon the waves. Like the bowmen of 
Duke William at Hastings long afterwards, the archers of Asia 
now shoot upwards that the arrows may fall in the faces of the 
foe. The battle has been hot and fierce. The sun is setting 
behind the range to the west, and still the desperate fight goes 
on. Some few ships are seized and fired by the Greeks, but, 
covered by the dauntless rear-guard of Datis, the embarkation 
goes steadily on ; and as they at last fall back to the ships and 
the well-nigh exhausted Greeks plunge into the waves in pursuit, 
many there fall weighed down by their armor. Here it is that 
brave Callimachus receives his death-wound, and Stesilaus, an- 
other general, is killed. With the exception of six or seven 



86 MARATHON. 

destroyed by fire, the last Persian galley pushes forth from the 
shore and Marathon is won. 

Now, panting and triumphant, the Athenians betake them- 
selves to the joyous work of plunder. Yonder stands the rich 
camp of Persia, and the spoil far exceeds their wildest dreams. 
The plain is strewn with Persian dead, especially along the water- 
course which marked the fateful track of the centre, and Mil- 
tiades, receiving the congratulations of his generals, begins to 
realize the magnificence of his victory. 

Even now the skill and wariness of the soldier do not desert 
him. Watchful eyes have noted a blazing light upon the rocks 
southward where the headland Sunium juts out into the sea. It 
is a signal-shield inviting the vanquished still to come to Athens, 
now defenseless in the absence of her soldiery. Southward, too, 
far as the eye can reach, the yEgean is dotted with the myriad 
sails of the hostile fleet, some already rounding the distant cape. 

Loud ring the trumpets recalling the wearied but exultant 
Greeks ; and leaving Aristides with his tribe to guard the cap- 
tured camp, Miltiades leads his worn-out army back towards 
Pentelicus. Despite fatigue and disappointment, discipline pre- 
vails, and through the still, moonlit August night the battle-worn 
army marches back to Athens ; and when morning dawns and 
the eager fleet of Persia comes swarming vengefully up the bay, 
lo ! the heights are crowned by the very troops who had so com- 
pletely overmastered them so short a time before ; and, baffled 
and broken, Datis signals withdraw. The great Persian expedi- 
tion is at an end and the tide of her conquests checked forever. 

And now Athens springs to the foremost rank in Greece, for 
all the sisterhood of states sing her praises. Before her almost 
unaided arms the host of the Great King has fled, dismayed, 
leaving its stores and treasure and six thousand four hundred of 
its dead upon the field. Athens has lost but one hundred and 
ninety-two. All too late a Spartan phalanx had reached the 
field, and, after seeing the swarms of Persian dead, went home 
to exult over the great victory. The dead of Athens were 
gathered under one mound, those of little Platata under another, 
and eventually a third was erected in honor of Miltiades himself. 



THE ARMY OF ATTICA. 



37 



It is pitiful to think of his subsequent history. Taking ad- 
vantage of the enthusiasm and confidence of the people imme- 
diately after Marathon, he induced them to fit out and give 
him command of a secret expedition, which he assured them 
would yield great profit to Athens. It turned out to be a mere 
raid upon the neighboring island of Paros to satisfy a personal 
hatred against one of its prominent citizens. The expedition 
was a failure, and Miltiades himself, tricked into a midnight 
rendezvous with the so-called priestess of the temple, fell in the 
darkness, sustained severe injuries, was recalled in dishonor, and 
died at Athens in disgrace, the wretched dupe of a woman. 

Marathon checked at once the hopes and schemes of Darius, 
sent the discomfited fleet and army back to the shores of Asia, 
and roused the valor and enthusiasm of Greece to the highest 
pitch. As a purely military state Lacedsemon still held the lead, 
but in all that related to national affairs and speedily in all that 
concerned her naval force and policy, Athens by her great vic- 
tory rose to the first rank. For ten valuable and well-improved 
years the shores of Greece saw no more of the Persian invaders. 




THERMOPYLAE. 




T cannot be claimed that this was a great battle, 
but as a combat renowned in history for chivalric 
devotion and valor, its incidents can never lack 
interest to either soldier, scholar, or casual 
reader. 

After Marathon, when Datis and his defeated 
army returned to Persia, King Darius seems to 
have been stunned by the force of the blow, so 
much so that he forgot even the destined ven- 
geance on the prisoners brought from Eretria. 
He soon rallied, however, and resolved upon an 
expedition that should far exceed in strength and numbers either 
that of Mardonius or the later one of Datis and Artaphernes. 
The aim of his life became the utter humiliation and conquest 
of Greece. 

Once again the edict went forth, and Persia resumed the great 
work of preparation. Once again Darius himself decided to lead 
in person. Three busy years were spent in building ships, 
transports, and assembling the levies of troops ; then his Egyptian 
provinces broke into open revolt, and before he could resume 
operations in Europe he had to quell this rebellion. It took 
time, baffled and annoyed him, and in his impatience and vehe- 
mence told upon him to such an extent as to accelerate if not 
develop the fatal illness which seized him and ended his life in 
the thirty-sixth year of a glorious reign. 

Influenced by his queen, Atossa, Darius had named as his suc- 
cessor his younger son, Xer.xes, and confided to him the e.xecution 
of his plans. Just five years after Marathon Xerxes took up the 
sceptre. Historians say he was the handsomest and most stately 
(38) 



MEMORABLE FEATS IN ENGINEEKiNG. 39 

man of his day, but mentally he lacked the energy and purpose 
of his father and was faint-hearted, vain, and conceited. Not 
until he had been delayed two years was the revolt in Egypt 
crushed ; then Mardonius became one of his chief counsellors 
and urged him to set forth on the march to Greece. Four years 
more were spent in mighty preparation, and then the expedition 
fairly started. 

Twelve hundred ships of war formed his fleet and over a mil- 
lion men his army. In some parts of his empire only women 
were left to till the soil. Never before had Persia mustered such 
a force, never again was she able to do so ; and the campaign, 
thus begun, was made further memorable by two great feats in 
engineering — the bridging of the Hellespont by means of boats, 
and the digging of a ship canal through the isthmus back of 
Mount Athos. 

The straits which connect the Euxine with the JEgean are 
about a mile in width at the point selected by the Phoenician en- 
gineers for the crossing, which was about opposite where Abydos 
now stands. Two bridges, in fact, were decided upon, and they 
were thrown across the Hellespont from the eastern shore to the 
Thracian Chersonese, parallel and only a short distance apart. 
The largest, stoutest ships were employed, securely anchored 
with their prows down stream, and only four or five yards apart. 
Huge cables of flax and fibre of papyrus were stretched by 
capstans from shore to shore, resting on the ships, and on these 
cables the beams and flooring were laid ; an earthen road was 
levelled along the planking and a stout fence was built, both 
to prevent the cattle from crowding one another off into the 
water and even their seeing it. Three hundred and sixty triremes 
and penteconters were needed for the upper bridge, three hun- 
dred and fourteen for the lower ; but when all was ready a violent 
storm burst upon the straits and destroyed the bridges. Xerxes 
in a rage caused the engineers of the work to be put to death 
and ordered new bridges built at once. 

Meantime a great force of men was at work digging the ship 
canal behind Mount Athos. The promontory juts far out into 
the .(Egean, forming a bold and precipitous headland, and for 



40 THERMOPVL^. 

centuries this had been the storm centre of those seas. It was 
here the great flotilla of Mardonius was wrecked. It is here that 
to this day mariners cannot be induced at certain seasons to at- 
tempt to sail from the eastern around to the western side of the 
peninsula. Xerxes determined to lose no more ships in that 
undertaking, and a broad ship-canal, wide enough to pass two 
triremes sailing abreast, was dug across the isthmus. Despite 
the immense force at his disposal, it took three years to complete 
the work, only a mile and a half in length. 

Just at sunrise one balmy spring morning in the year 480 
B. C, the great army of Xerxes began the crossing, the fighting 
force taking the upper bridge, the trains, cattle, and camp-fol- 
lowers the lower ; and for seven days and nights, lashed actually 
into the utmost rapidity of march, the soldiery poured over in 
ceaseless stream. 

First of all were the " Immortals," so called because their 
number was never allowed to fall below ten thousand or to ex- 
ceed it — a division of infantry that was the honored and envied 
of all Asia, superb in dress and appointments and bearing pome- 
granates of solid silver on the butts of their spears. One thou- 
sand of their number marching at stated intervals on front, flank, 
and rear — non-commissioned officers probably — were further dis- 
tinguished by gold instead of silver pomegranates. After the 
Immortals rode the picked horse-guard of Xerxes himself, one 
thousand tried and trusted knights and soldiers, their spears 
decorated with apples of gold. With them rode Xerxes and his 
glittering court. Behind them came the great division of cavalry, 
ten thousand strong, all native Persians and devoted to their 
king. Then came the vast array of legionaries, allies, slaves, 
and conscripts, forty-six nationalities in ail being represented, 
each bearing the arms and wearing the dress peculiar to its own 
land and clime. From the east as far as the Indus and Oxus, 
from the south as far almost as the head waters of the Nile, from 
every land of western Asia and northern Africa they poured for 
one living week across the trembling bridge, the most motley 
array in the annals of warfare. It would be impossible to de- 
scribe all the varieties of arms and equipments. One point, 



AN OVERWHELMING PERSIAN FORCE. 41 

however, ought to be noted. Even as at Marathon ten years 
before, hardly one command was provided with defensive armor. 
Turbans instead of helmet.s, loose robes and trousers instead of 
breastplates and greaves, wicker-work instead of shield of metal 
or hides, and light javelins, arrows, and cimeters instead of the 
heavy spear and deadly short sword of the men of Athens and 
Sparta. 

Up along the Chersonese, westward along the Gulf of Melos, 
across the great plain of Doriscus, where he mustered and re- 
viewed his forces and found himself at the head of one million 
seven hundred thousand soldiers, Xerxes pressed forward. Down 
he came through Thrace, Macedon and Thessaly, subjugating 
everywhere. An attempt was made to check him in the narrow 
pass of the Vale of Tempe, but the army sent thither under 
Themistocles speedily found that the position would be unten- 
able because of the open sea to the right. With his matchless 
fleet Xerxes could land thousands in their rear, and Themistocles 
fell back., Only one point was known to exist where a stand 
might successfully be made — Thermopylae. 

Thermopylae — " The Warm Gates" — was a noted pass. The 
road from Thessaly and the entire north of Greece, the one high- 
way leading from Macedon,Thrace, Thessaly, and Dolopia down 
to Boeotia, Athens, and the Peloponnesus was here confined to a 
narrow causeway. To the south lay the jagged precipices of 
Mount QEta, to the north the lashing waves of the Maliac Gulf 
The road enters this strange defile from the west, and at the 
western entrance the cliffs of Mount CEta almost overhang the 
sea. There was barely room between them and the deep waters 
for the causeway. A little further on the mountain seemed to 
open out. There was a mile or two of open, gently sloping foot- 
hills, a space large and level enough to utilize as the camping- 
ground of a few thousand men ; then, at the eastern end of the 
defile, the mountain again closed in and shouldered the roadway 
out against the sea. Everywhere throughout its length, where 
the waves themselves did not break upon the embankment, there 
lay to the north of the road a deep, treacherous morass, utterly 
impassable. Near the middle of the pass were some warm 



42 THERMOPYL.E. 

springs out in the open ground, and from these it took its 
name. 

With the gulf on the north and the jagged heights of Mount 
CEta on the south, it is easy to see that flank attack was here 
impossible. A small army could confront a vast one, and here 
it was that Greece determined to make her stand. But what 
was to prevent the position being taken in reverse, as was or 
would have been the case with Tempe farther north ? There 
was the arm of the sea. Where were the ships of Xerxes? 
Off Tempe lay the broad Thermaic Gulf opening out into the sea 
itself Off Thermopylje lay a narrow arm approachable through 
a still narrower channel — the Straits of Euboea. A small and 
determined fleet could hold those straits against the 1,200 ships 
of Aaia, and, thanks to the wisdom of Themistocles and his 
vehement exertions after Marathon, Athens at last had a navy 
that wai a credit to Greece. Off Artemesium in Euboea, far to 
^le east of Thermopylae, the fleet of Greece was now in readiness 
o hold that of Persia; and at Thermopylae itself King Leonidas 
of Sparta, with 300 picked men from his own city and a force 
of about 4,000 troops from other Grecian .states (none, however, 
from Athens), sprang forward and seized the pass. It was just 
about the end of June. 

We are told by some historians that when Xerxes halted be- 
fore Thermopylae he had under his banners nearly 2,000,000 
men. This vast army was confronted by less than 5,000. The 
national games were then being carried on throughout Greece, . 
and nothing would induce the Peloponnesians especially to drop 
them and go to the aid of this little advanced post. At first it 
was unmolested. Xerxes saw that front attack in that narrow 
defile would not be apt to have effect — thousands would have to 
stand and look on where one could fight. He hurried forward 
his fleet, hoping to " turn " the position, but a terrible storm 
wrecked 400 of his ships on the coast of Magnesia, and the fleet 
of Eurybiades confronted the remainder at the eastern entrance 
of the straits. He could not take Leonidas in rear by sea. 
Was there any chance by land ? Apparently not. Mount CEta 
stretched like a huge barrier for miles across the southern sky. 



THE ATTACK. 43 

but reliant on his overpowering force and the bravery of his 
chosen Persians, he determined to order the attack. The calm 
and indifference of the Spartans, whom his scouts reported quietly 
sittincr outside the stone wall that then stood at the western gate, 
was e'xasperating. As a preliminary, he ordered a tower to be . 
erected from the top of which he proposed to watch the demoli- 
tion of 'the defenders. Then one bright morning about the 1st 
of July the assault began. 

Two fine divisions, the Medes and Kissians, sprang forward, 
the former in the lead, and advanced along the causeway. 
There is solemn stillness and expectation a while as these, the 
bravest and best.troops (if we except the Guards and " Immor- 
tals "), the flower of Persia's army, sweep forward to the attack. 
Little by little the precipices to the right crowd and contract 
the front; the left flank is being forced out into the morass and 
is "shaving off"' as the lines advance. Narrower grows the 
defile and "now, as nothing but a mere carriage way, perhaps 
thirty feet in width, is left for their front, they come upon an 
impenetrable wall of stone, against which javelin and spear are 
alike impotent— against a living wall of iron, from which their 
puny missiles glance with harmless ring; but this wall bristles 
with a deadly thicket of spears, and on these spears the foremost 
ranks half in eager valor, half in helpless surrender to the throng- 
ing impetus from the rear, are rushed to bloody death. Sparta and 
Persia are locked in conflict, and for hours, with apparent gain 
on neither side, the struggle goes on. It is not long before a 
third barricade is heaped across the road— the mangled dead of 
Persia, for they go down in swarms before the mail-clad lines of 
Greece Xerxes gazes in amaze and fury ; leaps from his seat 
and orders in fresh battalions. The attempt is simply madness 
Fresh and vigorous comrades fill the places of the wraueJ men 
in the foremost ranks of Sparta, and the sun goes down upon a 
scene of carnage for which Xerxes can find no excuse whatever. 
Yet he orders the attack to be resumed on the morrow, and the 
morrow is but a repetition of the first day. Approached from 
the front, Leonidas was invincible. Was there no other way? 
Winding over the mountains to the west and south, almost 



44 THERMOPYI,^. 

forgotten, practically unused for years, was a pitiful foot-path, a 
mere goat-track. Of its existence even Leonidas had known 
nothing until his arrival at the pass, and, trusting to a similar 
ignorance on the part of Xerxes, he had done no more toward 
its defence than to place a guard of a thousand I'hocians at the 
point where it reached the summit, intending if attacked that 
way to reinforce the detachment and defend it to the utmost. 

But treachery had been at work. Ephialtes, a Malian, had 
betrayed to Xerxes the secret of the footpath ; a strong detach- 
ment of Persians, under Hydarnes, stole from camp after dark- 
ness on the second day had set in, and in the stillness of the 
following dawn fell upon the Phocian outpost and carried all be- 
fore them. Long before noon on the third day the bitter tidings 
reached Leonidas that his heroic defence had been in vain. 
Treachery had turned the pass. The Persians were in his rear. 

There was yet time to escape. To Leonidas and his Spartans 
desertion of the position they had been detailed to defend meant 
dishonor. The otiicrs might go. Their services would else- 
where be available, but the Spartan king with his brave 300, 
with some 700 Thespians and a handful of Thebans, stood to their 
ground. 

Xerxes had decided to postpone until noon the third attempt, 
judging that by that time the command of Hydarnes would have 
struck the Spartan rear. What was his amaze when those heavy 
armed hoplites suddenly issued from the defile in front of him — 
the pass they had been defending ; and now, deploying their 
lines and straightening their ranks, their mail-clad athletes, in 
close, compact, invulnerable order, came charging down the 
causeway full upon his unprepared centre. For a time it seems 
as though nothing can stand before them. Only a thousand, 
yet that thousand is charging home to the heart of a thousand 
times their number. They are dashing in upon his very look- 
out tower ; piercing their way through the swarming hordes of 
Asia like an iron wedge ; they are coming straight at him, and 
a little more and he must fly or fall. Noble after noble, general 
and chief and knight go down before those thousand spears in 
vain effort to check their onset. Two royal princes, brofshers 



THE SPARTANS ANNIHILATED. 45 

Of Xerxes, are slain in defence of their royal brother, and then 
the monarch is se.zed by terrified friends and borne m pan>c far 

'^Bu'tX wild dash could not last. One by one the terrible 
spear are broken, bent or wrenched away. Little by h tie the 
Shaition of hours of conflict .s telling upon the devoted ^-d 
Leonidas himself goes down, mortally wounded, fightmg hke 
a hon to the last, scorning to abandon his post. Knowmg that 
there he and his men must be slowly butchered, he determmed 
on he brilliant and daring sortie that struck home to the very 
core of Asia's army, and ended in h.s own glorious death. 
And now at last, battered, breathless, but sword in hand, face to 
Zioc bearing the body of their gallant leader m the. m>dst. 
hey b nd to the weight of hundreds of fresh and exultant ene- 
rnies who would not dare meet them hand-to-hand when morn- 
"g dawned. But the sun is setting now, and -the dust and 
gime of battle one after another the heroes of the httle band 
f re falling, ever with faces to the foe. At last the remnant .s 
borne backward on the mighty rush and torrent and carried 
within the pass; and there, hemmed in on every ^'^e^^^" *' 
swords broken and dinted now, they gather gnmly, undauntedly, 
on a little hillock, too weak to stand or longer struggle; too 
superb to surrender, but daring and defiant to the last they 
sell their storied lives, and only when the life-blood of the last 
is drained is Thermopylae won. 

There was now nothing left to check the onward march of 
the Asiatic conqueror towards Athens. In six days more his 
chariot was thundering through the deserted streets, and the 
inhabitants had scattered across the Saronic Gulf or huddled 
upon their ships at Salamis. One-third of Greece was in his 
power, and Sardis was avenged. 



PLAT^A. 




479 B. C 

HE great naval battle of Salamis, which resulted 
in the disastrous defeat of the Persian fleet 
soon after the occupation of Athens, com- 
pletely cured Xerxes of any desire to see 
further fighting. Leaving three hundred thou- 
sand men as an army of occupation under 
Mardonius, he himself with the bulk of his 
army marched back the way he came, suf- 
fered severely during the six weeks of re- 
treat to the Hellespont, found his bridges 
again destroyed, but crossed his land force on the vessels 
that remained to him, and made the best of his way back to his 
capital. 

Great hopes, however, were entertained of Mardonius and his 
army. The nobles of Persia could not and would not believe 
that, properly handled, their forces either on land or sea were 
not able to conquer the Greeks. The orders left Mardonius were 
to hold the conquered territory north of the Isthmus of Corinth 
until spring and then be prepared to resume the offensive. At 
the same time a strong corps of sixty 'thousand men under Ar- 
tabazus, who had escorted Xerxes to the confines of Thrace, 
was ordered to winter there and join Mardonius early in the 
spring. The latter, with his command, had retired to the plains 
of Thessaly, and the Athenians, after their great victory at Sal- 
amis, had returned and reoccupied their capital. 

The first move of Mardonius in the early spring was to make 
one effort at the honor of Attica. There is something pathetic 
in the situation of this gallant little state at the time, and 
(46) 



MALIS 




Thermopylae 




AN INSIDIOUS OFFER. 47 

a glance at the map of Greece will make it clear. There, down 
in the southeast corner, jutting out between the ^gean and the 
Mediterranean, is a little rocky peninsula, Greece. From the 
west an arm of the sea is thrust in five-sixths of the way across 
and almost meets a shorter arm from the eastern sea. The 
narrow neck of land which separates these two watery arms 
is the Isthmus of Corinth ; all the mainland below it was then 
called the Peloponnesus, now the Morea. Therein lay Sparta, 
Argos, Messene, Elis, and Olympia, Sicyon and Corinth, the 
great cities of confederated Greece. But Athens ? Athens stood 
alone, northeast of the isthmus, the outpost of the confederacy. 
All north of her now had been overrun by the hordes of Asia ; 
and she, that had once before at Marathon so superbly defied 
and defeated them, that had already been sacked and burned 
in their second resistless advance, stood now a third time be- 
tween them and her sister states beyond the isthmus. Twice 
has she borne the brunt and saved them from invasion. Now, 
as a third time the foe advances, she is foremost in the path, 
calling upon the sister states she has twice defended, to come, 
not for her sake, but the sake of all, to help her meet this new 
invasion. And they were walling her out, barricading the isth- 
mus behind her. 

Then it was Mardonius attempted his insidious offer. King 
Alexander of Macedon (who must not be confounded with Alex- 
ander the Great, who came to the fore in the following century) 
was sent as envoy. He pointed out that, exposed and unsup- 
ported as she was, she could not hope to withstand the Persian 
advance. " Join us, help us to conquer Sparta and the Pelopon- 
nesus, who have deserted you who never deserted them, and we 
pledge you the friendship of the Great King. We will rebuild 
your city, we will enrich you in every way, and you shall be in- 
dependent." It was a desperate temptation, for the facts were 
not inaccurately stated. The Peloponnesus ivas ready to abandon 
Attica to her fate ; but at thought of her becoming the ally of 
Persia, terrible alarm was felt south of the isthmus. " Stand 
firm," said Sparta ; " be true to Greece ; we hasten to your aid." 
And the offer of Mardonius was rejected. Athens sent a lofty 
4 



48 PLAT^A. 

and patriotic reply, penned, some say, by Aristides, who had 
returned from banishment just before Salamis, recalled by his 
great rival, Themistocles, who had secured his expulsion five 
years after Marathon ; for now Athens needed every man she 
had, and Themistocles well knew the power and force of the 
patriot whom he had ostracised solely because of his opposition 
to his own ambitious schemes. Athens would and did stand 
firm, and Mardonius at once advanced. 

Now that Athens had committed herself to the common cause 
and could not again expect a renewal of the offer of alliance, 
Sparta and her coadjutors, failed her. The expected aid did not 
come, was not sent. Sparta was the military head of Greece, 
and Sparta withheld all assistance. Betrayed and deserted, the 
Athenians once more were forced to abandon their city and take 
refuge on their ships. And now, once more, Mardonius tempted 
them, promising to spare their city, pointing out that he had pro- 
hibited all pillage, inviting them to return, pledging them honors, 
protection, prosperity, if they would only join him against the 
states which had so basely abandoned and deceived her. Then 
Sparta heard that Athens was about to yield and realized her 
own peril. That very night Pausanias of Sparta, with five thou- 
sand hoplites, pushed forward for the isthmus, and at last rein- 
forcements were on the wa\\ 

The Peloponnesus now woke up in earnest. By July i an 
admirable and disciplined army was concentrated in Corinthia, 
north of the isthmus, threatening the position of Mardonius in 
Athens. Numerically the Persians were far stronger but still 
no match for the trained and disciplined Greeks. Mardonius 
promptly abandoned Athens and fell back by a circuitous route 
into Boeotia, placing the river Asopus between himself and the 
foe. 

Here, reinforced by Artabazus, with the fortified city of Thebes 
at his back, with a broad plain suitable for his cavalry on which 
to manoeuvre, he awaited with confidence the expected onward 
move of the Greeks ; and to strengthen himself in this position 
he caused to be built a great fortified enclosure or stockade, a 
mile and a quarter square, and this he designed to be the rally- 



THE FORCES ENGAGED. 49 

ing point of his army in the event of disaster. He was not all 
confidence, it seems. His Persian officers were disheartened at 
the withdrawal of Xerxes. The Thebans and BcEotians were 
alarmed at the rally of the Peloponnesus, and Artabazus, second 
in command, was suspiciously disloyal. 

And now the Grecian army, under command of Pausanias, one 
hundred and ten thousand strong, but all footmen, marched 
northward through Megara, climbed the slopes of Cithaeron, and 
from thence gazed down upon the plain and valley of the Asopus. 
Forty thousand of these troops were hoplites, soldiers and citi- 
zens of the first rank, and thoroughly skilled in the use of their 
arms. The rest were light troops, irregulars, lielots, but quite as 
effective as the generality of the Asiatic force. All the Pelo- 
ponnesian cities seem to have contributed their quota, but the 
finest troops were undoubtedly the five thousand Spartans and 
the battle-tried heroes of Athens, eight thousand hoplites, and 
six hundred from faithful little Platsea, who, as veterans of Mar- 
athon, were organized in one division under one of their old 
leaders, Aristides. 

Along the mountain range Pausanias waited. Knowing the 
great superiority of the Persians in point of numbers, and real-, 
izing that down on the plain their cavalry would have immense 
advantage, he clung to the heights. But Mardonius took the 
initiative. He had an admirable force of horsemen ; they were 
armed with bows of great strength, were expert archers, and his 
theory was that they could ride around the massive infantry of 
Greece, shooting arrows into their very faces, and there could be no 
defence so long as the horsemen kept out of spears' length. Greece 
had few missile weapons : spear and sword were her reliance. 

The armies faced each other, the Persians north of the Asopus, 
the Greeks along the range of hills. Mardonius impatiently 
ordered his cavalry to attack, and the squadrons of Asia swept 
up the slopes and fell upon the footmen of Megara, who hap- 
pened to be most exposed, and dire was the slaughter until the 
phalanx of Athens came charging to the rescue, and with the 
loss of their leader, the greatest cavalry soldier of his day, Ma- 
sistius, the Persians were driven in disorder from the field. 



50 PLAT^A. 

Having killed him and defeated his troopers, Pausanias feared 
no longer to try issue on the open field below. He marched 
rapidly down into the valley, out past the devoted little city of 
Platsea, and formed line facing north along the Asopus. Here, 
in accordance with time-honored custom, they were drawn up 
according to tribe or nation — the Spartans in the post of honor 
on the extreme right, covering a famous spring, the fountain of 
Gargaphia. The Athenians were posted upon the opposite 
flank, that of second honor. 

Plataea lies just north of the mountain range of Cithaeron anti 
west of south from Thebes. To meet this move Mardonius had 
to face his army to the west, march a short distance up the 
Asopus, and then, directly in front of the Grecian force, he again 
deployed ; he, with the Persians and Medes, taking post on the 
left of his line so as to face the Spartans, the most renowned sol- 
diers of Greece. The Sacae, full as brave and reliable as the 
Persians, held the centre, while over against the Athenians on 
the extreme (Persian) right were posted the Macedonians and 
conquered conscripts from northern Greece. 

Nothing warlike was done in those days without consulting 
the oracles, and the answer now given was for both sides the 
same — "Await attack and yours is the victory." Consequently, 
neither side desired to open the ball. 

For nearly a fortnight the armies confronted each other, the 
cavalry of Persia constantly harassing the flanks and rear of the 
Greeks and cutting off" or driving back their supplies. At last, 
one night, the sentries in front of the left of the line sent in and 
reported that a single horseman halted at the outposts announced 
himself as Alexander of Macedon and desired to speak with 
their chiefs. In the conference that followed it was revealed that 
at dawn Mardonius proposed to attack in force along the whole 
line. Greece was warned to be on her guard. 

Then, to the surprise of all, Sparta's king suggested that they 
and the men of Athens should exchange places, " because," he 
said, "the Athenians have fought the Persians before and under- 
stand them. We can be sure of overthrowing the Macedonians." 
The change was made and, at dawn, instantly detected by Mardo- 



THE SPARTANS SURPRISED. 5J 

nius, who made a corresponding transfer of his flanks. Then 
once more Pausanias ordered his Lacedjemoniaas to the right ; 
the Persians followed, and the day was spent in senseless and 
fatiguing countermarching. The Spartans were barely back in 
their proper position on the right when the battle of Plataea 
began in good earnest. A daring and desperate charge of 
Oriental cavalry overthrew and hurled them back upon their 
supports. 

Taken unawares, before they had time to form their ranks, the 
Spartans were for a few moments at great disadvantage, and 
those few moments were precious ; for the Persians seized their 
opportunity and choked up the fountain which had rendered the 
best supply of water, that from the river being almost unobtain- 
able owing to the vigilance of the Asiatic archers. The loss 
was most serious, and Pausanias instantly decided upon another 
move. 

Two miles and a half away behind their left lay Plataea. In 
front of Plataea, on the broad plain, the river CEroe came down 
in two branches from Cithaeron, united and flowed off westward 
to the Gulf of Corinth. The Asopus, rising near it, ran directly 
eastward. Pausanias determined to move over to the ground 
between the two branches of the CEroe, "The Island," as it was 
called. There he would have ample supply of water, wfiich could 
not be intercepted by the enemy. 

At midnight the Corinthians and Megarians in the centre were 
silently withdrawn and ordered to move a mile or so to the west, 
cross the eastern branch of the CEroe, and take up a ner posi- 
tion facing north still, but unquestionably somewhat more ietired 
than the one they had occupied during the day. The Ath-^nians 
on the extreme left were to hold their ground to cover the move 
until assured that the centre was beyond reach of attack, and 
then in silence to move off to their left and rear, passing around 
west of the low hills which separated the CEroe from the Asopus. 
Last of all, the Lacedsemonians and Tegeans were to w.'thdraw 
and take post on the right of the new line. 

The Corinthians started at the appointed time, but they had 
been savagely handled by the Persian cavalry during the day. 



52 PLAT^A. 

were anxious to avoid such conflict on the morrow, and went too 
far. They passed the designated point, and, with the Megarians, 
kept on until they got under the walls of Platsea, where the steep 
hillside would protect them from charge of cavalry. 

Having sent off the troops in the centre, Pausanias now re- 
paired to the extreme right and ordered the withdrawal of the 
Spartans ; but here trouble arose. Amompharetus, a stout old 
soldier, refused to budge. He would not fall back himself, and 
his men would not fall back without him. In vain Pausanias 
and his generals stnove to point out that the move was only one 
for water and to draw the Persians after them. Amompharetus 
swore he would not fall back an inch. It was a violation of 
Spartan honor. Pausanias had no alternative but to leave him 
and his handful of troops to come to their senses. He hastened 
back after his main line. Most of the Lacedaemonians had gone 
already, and the Athenians from the extreme left were sending 
anxious inquiries as to what was going on. Dawn was breaking 
and there was no time to be lost. 

Fortunately Amompharetus soon thought better of the matter, 
and just as it became light enough to see, his command moved 
off, following in the track of their comrades towards Plataea. At 
the same hour, far to the west, the Athenians silently stole away, 
and as the sun rose over the rocky heights of Euboea, dimly 
visible through the morning mists of the valley, and the Persian 
cavalry pushed out to the front to renew the manoeuvres of the 
previous day, they discovered that the south bank was aban- 
doned. The Greeks had gone. All that was left to view was 
the slender column of Amompharetus slowly toiling up the low 
'■ divide " over towards Plataea. 

Then all was excitement and disorder in the Persian ranks. 
Hardly waiting to don his armor, Mardonius called his guard to 
follow him and rushed oiit to join the disorganized, mob-like pur- 
suit already begun. Persian, Mede, and Sacae sprang forward to 
the chase; no ranks, no discipline, no recognized leader; every 
man for himself, apparently, those who felt so disposed chased off 
across the Asopus ; those who did not, stood still and looked on. 

Among the latter, with a disciplined and valiant corps of 



PAUSANIAS IMPATIENT. 53 

nearly forty thousand men, was Artabazus. He formed his 
ranks moved forward a short distance, then halted and simply 
stood still watching the rush of Mardonius towards Plataea. He 
had predicted disaster if attack were attempted, and he did not 
mean to lend aid to stultify his prophecy. Artabazus stopped 
short and awaited the result. 

Meantime Pausanias had overtaken his right wing, the Lace- 
daemonians, just as they had crossed the low ridge southwest of 
the Asopus. He halted them and looked back. The wild rush 
of Persia had begun. The hordes of Asia were crowding upon 
the little band of Amompharetus. Coolly the latter marched to 
the crest then faced about. Quickly their comrades (Nf Lare 
daemon ranged themselves on their right and left, and with low- 
ered shield the threatening hedge of spears crashes down to the 
charo-e It is a trying moment, for Pausanias, compelled by 
relio-tous duty to offer up battle sacrifices and consult the wishes 
of the gods before deciding what to do, is eagerly waiting for 
the report of his priests while the Persian arrows are dealing 
death in his patient ranks. . , , , 

Invincible in the charge and in open ground when aided by 
the impetus of assault, the solid phalanx is like a goaded bull 
when compelled passively to face the foe. All around, at short 
ran-e the Orientals have planted a bulwark of their light archer 
shields and are pouring in a ceaseless flight of arrows, while the 
cavalry swarming about the flanks are making ugly gaps in the 
mail-clad ranks. Pausanias can stand it no longer. Raising his 
eyes through the dust and din of battle, he catches sight of the 
distant pinnacle of the temple of Juno, shining above the walls 
of Plata^a, and to her, imploringly, he stretches forth his hands. 
Under those walls, a mile or more away, most of his troops are 
huddled He is alone out here in the open hillside with his 
Spartans and Tegeans. Instantly the priests, who have been 
ominously silent before, declare the auspices favorable. Instantly 
he mves the longed-for order. " Now, Sparta, advance ! " And 
with the pent-up rage of battle, with the vehement longing for 
action that has been burning in their breasts all these wasted 
moments, the serried, solid ranks of Lacedaemon dash upon the 



54 PLAT^A. 

over-confident foe. Down go the fragile breastu^orks, down go 
the defenders. Mede and Persian reel before this machine-like 
onslaught. In vain the struggle with javelin and poinard, in vain 
Mardonius at the head of his gallant horse-guard charges upon 
the spears. Down he goes, felled by the hand of ^imnestus, 
and the phalanx tramples over his prostrate body. Gaining in 
force and impetus with every stride, the heavy infantry of Sparta 
literally tears its way through the heart of Persia's army, and in 
a few moments more, leaving their leader and hundreds of their 
comrades dead upon the field, the host of Mardonius, nothing 
but a mob now, is fleeing for life back to and across the Asopus. 

And, seeing them come, what dispositions are made upon the 
north bank, where at least a hundred thousand of their comrades 
are looking on ? Artabazus waits just long enough to see the 
beginning of the route, then marches his corps from the field of 
battle, passes by Thebes, and abandons his comrades to their 
fate. With him went the last chance of a successful stand. 
Had he remained, with his fresh and vigorous troops he could 
have pounced upon the Spartans, already exhausted after their 
iong conflict and headlong pursuit. He could have caught them 
utterly isolated from their comrades, for in their ardor they had 
taken no thought of support, and the Grecian centre was still 
way back at Platjea, and the left wing heavily engaged with the 
Thebans across the QEroe. He could have crushed the Spartans 
by weight of numbers as they had been crushed at Thermopylae, 
and he, Artabazus, would have been the hero and victor of 
Platjei. As it was he was simply the traitor. 

But fat- on the left the battle is still raging, for there Greek 
meets Greek : Athens is pitted against Thebes. For a time the 
issue is doubtful, but at last the practised valor of the veterans 
of Marathon proves too much for the men of Bceotia. Slowly 
but surely they are borne back. Furious charges of the Theban 
cavalry help them somewhat and relieve them of immediate 
pressure; but learning that utter rout has overwhelmed the Per- 
sian left, they fall back in comparative order to the walled city 
of Thebes. There at least they are safe from further assault. 

Meantime, the battle being virtuall}^ won, the centre seems to 
have awakened and with much clamor and spirit to have has- 



MASSACRE OF THE PERSIANS. 55 

tened forward from the walls of Platjea. The Megarians came 
eagerly down to where the Athenians were resting after their 
severe and exhausting conflict with the Thebans, and, supposing 
that the latter were in full retreat, they streamed out over the 
open plain in wild pursuit, and while thus scattered were sud- 
denly and viciously charged by the Theban horse and driven in 
consternation back to the shelter of the Athenians, leaving six 
hundred of their number overtaken and slaughtered upon the 
plain. 

And now the Persian army made for the fortified enclosure 
already described. There was no order, no leader, no discipline. 
They huddled in like sheep, and thither presently they were 
followed by the panting Spartans, now strongly reinforced by the 
Corinthians and others from the centre, and in all the fury of 
hate the assault began. 

Brave and impetuous as they were, however, they had no skill 
in the assault of fortified places, and for hours they were unable 
to effect an entrance. At last the Athenians arrived and then 
matters began to take definite shape. Here, as heretofore, the 
men of Attica gave proof of their superiority, and under their 
leadership the great enclosure was stormed and carried, and now 
nothing remained but the work of slaughter and pillage. 

Over this part of the story one can scarce repress a shudder. 
No mercy was shown, no quarter given. Greece revenged her 
wrongs in one terrible and unparalleled massacre. 

Of the exact losses of PlatSea we have no accurate account. 
The best authorities place those of the Greeks at about thirteen 
hundred, all told — mainly Spartans, Tegeans, Athenians, and 
Plataeans; though the six hundred lost by the Megarians as 
their share, the result of their bombastic effort to reap some of 
the fruits of the victory, are of course included. The Asiatic 
loss is simply incalculable. Herodotus states that only three 
thousand survived of those who did not march away with 
Artabazus. This would bring the total of their killed or mas- 
sacred to over one hundred thousand. 

Plataea ended once and for all the attempted march of con- 
quest of Persia. From this time forth *^here was »n end to 
eastern invasion. 



LEUCTRA. 




371 B. C. 

,0R a century after Platsea there was almost 
incessant warring in Greece. Jealousies of 
all kinds had risen in the sisterhood of 
states. By dint of her rigorous military 
system Sparta had managed to keep at the 
head of affairs until the close of what was 
termed the Peloponnesian war, although 
Athens had pushed her hard for leadership 
before that struggle. But sieges and pesti- 
lence at home reduced the power and num- 
bers of the Athenians, and the great expedition sent to conquer 
Sicily in 415 B. C. met with woful disaster at Syracuse. Then 
the last fleet of Athens was destroyed at ^gospotami by Lysan- 
der, and in 404 B. C. Athens surrendered and Sparta stood 
supreme throughout Greece. 

But Sparta proved revengeful and despotic. She humbled her 
neighbors in many inexcusable ways. Her former allies turned 
against her. Fresh wars broke out. In the movements that 
followed the Spartans succeeded in seizing and holding the cit- 
adel of Thebes — the Cadmeia, as it was called. It was retaken 
by a band of conspirators, who entrapped the Spartan leaders at 
a banquet and put them to instant death. 

Then Sparta sent an army in the dead of winter to avenge the 
treachery (so she termed it) of the Thebans. It certainly was a 
piece of treachery, but no more of a crime than that by which 
Sparta had seized the Cadmeia ; and as a similar attempt had 
just been made to seize the Piraeus, the seaport of Athens, the 
Athenians joined forces with Thebes against the Spartans. Two 
(56) 



EPAMINONDAS APPEARS. 57 

sharp actions were fought at Tanagra and Tegyra. and for the 
first time in their history the Spartans were compelled to retreat 
before an inferior force. The supremacy of Sparta was de- 
stroyed. 

Then a great convention of the states was called at Sparta. 
Persia wished aid from them in quelling a revolt in Egypt, and 
here the trouble broke out afresh. It seems that after the affair 
at Tegyra, Thebes had assumed the same domineering attitude 
towards the other cities of Boeotia that Sparta had to those of 
the Peloponnesus. The Athenians, in some jealousy of the 
growing powers of Thebes, had well-nigh decided to withdraw 
from their alliance. Speeches were made by eminent Athenians, 
proposing peace on terms satisfactory to all but Thebes. Athens 
and Sparta would have deprived Thebes of all control over her 
neighbors in Bceotia, yet retained certain powers of their own. 

This brought to his feet the sole envoy of Thebes, Epaminon- 
das, a man who already had become the object of much atten- 
tion throughout the entire confederacy. From the day of its 
congress at Sparta he became the most prominent. In plain, 
emphatic language he dared what none but he had dared before. 
Sparta was vehemently assailed for her conduct towards tho 
cities of Laconia, which, said he, was infinitely more arrogant 
than that of Thebes toward her neighbors of Bceotia. In ex- 
asperation Agesilaus, King of Sparta, sprang from his seat. 
" Speak plainly," said he to Epaminondas ; " will you or will you 
not leave the cities of Boeotia free from all interference on your 
part?" 

"Will you promise freedom to your neighbors of Laconia?" 
was the answer. 

And Thebes was stricken from the rolls as exempted from the 
terms of the treaty. This was in June, 371 B. C. Epaminondas 
returned in haste to Boeotia. Athens withdrew from her old 
alliance, and all Greece stood aside to see Thebes and Sparta 
meet in single combat. 

This time, even though Thebes stood alone, Sparta had reason 
to be cautious. 

To begin with, the finest soldier and tactician yet born to 



58 l.EUCTRA. 

Greece stood at the head of the Theban army, and as scholar and 
statesman he was as complete as soldier. 

Epaminondas was the son of Polymnis. His family was poor, 
had always been poor, but among the oldest of Thebes. They 
claimed their origin from the very dragon's teeth sown by Cad- 
mus. At the time of the democratic reorganization in Thebes 
— 378 B. C. — Epaminondas was in the prime of life. He had 
spent years in military and gymnastic training, was skilled in 
music, and learned in philosophy, history, and politics. It was 
said of him that no man of his day knew more and talked less. 
He was pure, true, valiant, and steadfast, and to him Thebes 
confided her fortunes when the Spartan army came swarming 
over the mountain boundary from Phocis on the west ; for in 
Phocis it so happened the Spartans at that moment had some ten 
thousand well-trained soldiers under Cleombrotus. 

But, pre-eminent as the men of Laconia had been up to the 
day of Teg}'ra, they now had to encounter a foe skilled and dis- 
ciplined as themselves. For years past, under such soldiers as 
Pelopidas and Epaminondas, a regular camp of instruction had 
been maintained on the open plain near Thebes; and, while all 
the soldiery had been put through a sharp course of training, 
one battalion in particular, an organization perfected in 378 B. C, 
was now renowned throughout Greece. It never had its superior, 
if indeed it ever found its equal. This was " The Sacred Band." 
It was composed of three hundred hoplites, heavy armed in- 
fantry', and consecrated to the defence of the Cadmeia or Acro- 
polis. It was under constant training, and consisted of young 
men picked from the best families of Thebes, and so drawn up 
in ranks that each pair of neighboring soldiers were intimate 
friends. To join it required years of trial and exercise in the 
palaestra — the martial games and contests of the city. To be- 
long to it was the highest honor to which a young soldier could 
aspire. Destined at first to form a front rank for the Theban 
infantr\% it was soon changed by Epaminondas into a regiment 
acting by itself formed in deep charging column. And this was the 
compact little phalanx that had hewn its way through the hitherto 
indomitable Spartans at Tegj-ra. It had proved irresistible. 



THEBES ANn SPARTA TN CONFLICT. 59 

With only six or seven thousand men, all told, Epaminondas 
set forth from Thebes to contest the march of Cleombrotus with 
his ten thousand from Phocis into Boeotia. But the Spartan 
had met the " Sacred Band " before, and knew better than to 
assail it when between him and home. He did a thing Spartan 
generals hitherto scorned to do — manoeuvred. He moved rap- 
idly southward, seized the port of Creusis on the Crisssean Gulf 
captured the twelve Theban triremes in the harbor, left a garrison 
there to hold the place, marched northward again over the low 
mountain range, and encamped on the high grounds of the eastern 
slopes of Mount Helicon, near a little town called Leuctra, west 
of Thebes, only a short march from it, and not far northwest of 
Plataea, with which we formed acquaintance in the previous 
chapter. 

Here the Thebans came down to meet them. They were dis- 
comfited and annoyed by the success of the Spartan move and 
the loss of their seaport. It took all the energy and vim of 
Epaminondas to keep them firm. Of the seven commanders — 
Boeotarchs, as they were called — three already showed great 
timidity and urged the policy of falling back on Thebes and 
standing a siege, but the vote of the seventh decided in favor of 
the plan of Epaminondas — to fight then and there on the open 
ground. There was no exultation, no lively hope ; the Thebans 
simply meant to do their duty and die there rather than submit 
to Sparta. Then superstition came to their aid. 

From, the Theban temples came encouraging omens ; but, best 
of all, a Spartan exile, now serving in the Theban ranks, an- 
nounced his conviction that here was the very spot designated 
by the gods for the overthrow of Sparta. Here, he pointed out, 
stood the tomb of two maidens of Leuctra, who, wandering 
together in the fields, had been seized and violated by some sol- 
diers of Lacedaemon a few years before. Dishonored and de- 
spairing, they slew themselves ; and their father, after vainly 
imploring redress from Sparta, invoked curses on the kinsmen 
of those who had wrought such foul wrong to him and to his, 
died by his own hand at their grave, and the three were now 
entombed together. 



go T.KUCTRA. 

In a dream Pelopidas was visited by the spirit of the father, 
and assured that if the Thebans would but sacrifice " an auburn 
virgin " at the tomb victory would be theirs. The Thtban gen- 
erals were sorely perplexed as to what was meant by an " auburn " 
virgin, but in the midst of their consultation a mare with a chest- 
nut filly galloped up. The prophet Theocritus sprang to hi.'? 
feet, exclaiming : " Here comes the very victim required, sent by 
the gods themselves." And with eager haste and infinite relief 
the soldiers captured the filly and offered her as sacrifice upon 
the tomb. 

Fanciful as this story may be, there is universal testimony to 
the effect that all the omens were in favor of attack. In the 
highest spirits the men of Thebes and Bceotia sprang to their 
places, and the memorable battle of Leuctra began. 

Epaminondas had neglected no human precaution. His 
enemy outnumbered him almost two to one. Hitherto armies 
met with a simultaneous clash along the whole line. The day 
of Leuctra marks the first change. 

The Spartans were drawn up as usual in heavy masses, with 
Cleombrotus and the principal chiefs on their right. Epaminon- 
das massed his best men opposite those on his extreme left. All 
through the Spartan lines was eager haste and zeal for battle. 
They were frantic to avenge the disgrace of Tegyra. Seeing the 
calm preparations of the Thebans, the army of Sparta had first 
finished a hearty morning meal and then pushed well out from 
camp, their cavalry dispersed along their entire front. But cav- 
alry was something comparatively new in Sparta, while for years 
the men of Thebes had been accustomed to handling their arms 
while on horseback. Behind the cloud of horsemen to the south 
the army of Laconia advanced at slow and stately march toward 
the Theban camp, the Spartans on the right being drawn up 
twelve deep. Between the rapidly nearing lines of cavalry lay 
a shallow depression in the ground, running from northwest to 
southeast pretty nearly. Each army was marching down hill 
towards the other and would be apt to meet at the very bottom. 
But, before beginning his move to the front, Epaminondas had 
ordered back to Thebes all his baggage and camp-followers. 



LOCKED IN THE DEATH. STRUGGLE. Q% 

Seeing some lack of confidence among his "allies, he called out 
that those tribes who felt too weak or uncertain to contend 
against the Spartans might fall out at the same time and get out 
of the way. He wanted no faint hearts with him. And the 
Thespians went. No sooner had they started than a large force 
of Spartan allies gave chase, scouring over the rolling hills to the 
northeast to head them off. The Thespians scurried back be- 
hind their comrades once more, and the Spartan allies started 
back to their own lines. But in their zeal they had gone a long 
distance — were widely separated from the Spartan army, now 
sensibly weakened by their absence ; and now was the Theban 
opportunity. Epaminondas was the first to see it. He hurls his 
cavalry forward in headlong charge. They are hardly withstood 
at all. The Spartan cavalry, greatly inferior in skill and horse- 
manship, whatever it may be in numbers, is sent whirling back 
upon the infantry supports. They cannot get through ; the in- 
fantry cannot advance. So here for a few moments the Theban 
horse ride around and over them, unmercifully belaboring the 
southern cavalry and even storming in upon the Spartan flanks. 
And now Cleombrotus urges forward the superb Spartan phalanx 
on the right. Twelve deep, in orderly disciplined array, they 
forge ahead, brushing away the swarming horsemen, friend and 
foe, like billows from an iron prow. Soon their serried ranks 
sweep their way out to the front and are seen in all their solid 
strength. They head squarely down the slope towards the 
Theban left. Presently they are practically alone, out in the air, 
for the centre and left of the Lacedaemonian line, composed of 
allies or inferior troops, have failed to hew their way through the 
crowding, contending horsemen in front. Indeed, they can see 
nothing ahead of them but this mass of plunging steeds and 
battling riders. And now, once more, Epaminondas gazes with 
eager satisfaction. On the northern slope his left is massed in 
charging column four times the depth of that of Sparta. There 
stand the Sacred Band, and behind them in solid phalanx — the 
whole nearly fifty deep — the other hoplites of Thebes. Off to 
their right, but " refused," as the military term is — thrown back 
.considerably behind the line of the left wing — stood the batt.il- 



^2 LEOCTRA. 

ions of the centre, and to their right and still further " refused " 
the other troops of Bceotia there enlisted. Epaminondas was 
the first general to attack in echelon, as though his battalions 
formed a succession of steps from right to left. ( 

Now, as the Spartan band reaches the foot of the slope and 
begins the ascent, he gives the word to advance ; and his 
left wing, with levelled spears, with great shields close locked, 
for all the world like one bristling battering-ram, with all the 
impetus of down-hill charge in column of fifty deep is hurled 
upon the up-hill-struggling square of Sparta. 

Desperately, heroically, inflexibly as the latter fights, what 
possible chance has it ? On purely mechanical principles the 
Thebans are sure of success. The phalanx of Lacedaemon is 
hewn to pieces. Cleombrotus himself receives his death-wound; 
Deinon, the polemarch, is slain ; all the most eminent officers of 
the Spartan army fall there with him. Despite obstinate resist- 
ance and fearful slaughter, the strength of Sparta is wasted 
against the science of Thebes. Science and generalship win the 
battle for Epaminondas. All the stress of the battle fell upon 
the limited front where Spartan and Theban were locked in their 
death struggle. Hardly anywhere else were the infantry lines 
engaged. Leuctra was fought and won just where Epaminon- 
das intended it should be — on his Sacred Band. 

And now, bearing their dying leader as their forefathers had 
borne Leonidas at Thermopylae, the Spartans fell back fighting 
until they reached their camp. Then the Thebans were called 
ofT, and in perfect order Epaminondas retired his wearied left 
wing to the support of the rest of his line. The Lacedaemonians 
could fight no longer, for their losses had been from their very 
best. Their general dying, their leaders killed, only three hun- 
dred of the city troops of Sparta left of the seven hundred who 
so confidently swept forward in the triumphant charge of the 
morning, the allies now lukewarm or utterly disheartened, there 
was nothing left for them but to beg permission to bury their 
dead and go. Fifteen hundred men of Lacedaemon were, by the 
grace of Thebes, gathered and interred there upon the field 
where they had fought so fruitlessly and well, and five hundred 



tHE CONQUEROR EPAMINONDAS. 63 

years afterwards the shields and weapons of their principal war- 
riors still ornamented the temples of Thebes. 

Only twenty days had elapsed since he quitted the hall of 
convention in Sparta, and here, on the field of Leuctra, with a 
loss of not more than four hundred of his men, Epaminondas 
stood the conqueror of the time-honored leaders and heroes of 
Greece. Sparta had gone down before the phalanx of Thebes. 




BATTLE-FIELD OF LEUCTRA. 




MANTINEA. 

362 B. C. 

INE years after Leuctra, Thebes and Sparta 
again met in battle far more important in point 
^Jmi'i^^MT-' of numbers engaged and in its results. Leuctra 
"^ ^"'^^^'''' is memorable as the first battle fought on the 
new tactical ideas introduced by Epaminon- 
das ; Mantinea as the last he ever fought, and 
the end of Theban supremacy. 

During the eight intervening years there had 
been no peace between the rival states. Pelopidas, the great co- 
adjutor of Epaminondas, had been killed in action in 363 B. C, 
and a large Theban army in 362 was marching to and fro in 
the Peloponnesus striking at Sparta and her allies. Epaminon- 
das himself was in command. He had made an unsuccessful 
assault on Sparta, and followed it up by another equally unsuc- 
cessful against the city of Mantinea. Both attempts had been 
defeated by fortuitous accidents, and now two large armies were 
confronting each other on an elevated plain in the very heart 
of the Peloponnesus, about forty miles due north of Sparta. 

This plain, now called Tripolitza, is about 2,000 feet above 
the sea-level. It is hemmed in on all sides by mountains ; is 
about ten miles in length from north to south, and in its widest 
part is about eight miles across. The city of Mantinea lay at 
the northern end, while that of Tegea was at the southern. The 
province in which lay the plain was th.in and is now called Ar- 
cadia, and the site of Mantinea is now c-^cupied by a little town 
called Palseopoli. 

About four miles south of Mantinea the mountains east and 
west seem to send out a long spur, forming a ridge across the 



COMPOSITION OF THE FORCES. 65 

plain, through which, about the middle, was a depression, aiwJ 
through this depression ran the road from Tegea to Mantinea. 

Along this ridge, facing south, was formed the army of Sparta 
and her allies, old King Agesilaus of Sparta being himself 
present, it is believed, though now in his eightieth year. Be- 
sides the hoplites of his own city and of Lacedsemon generally 
there were gathered there a fine body of Athenian cavalry, and 
all the infantry of Mantinea and other towns of Arcadia ; also 
the available troops of Elis and Achaia, the provinces bordering 
Arcadia on the west and north. The entire force numbered 
probably about 22,000 men, of whom 2,000 were cavalry. 

And now Epaminondas (who had been resting his men withih 
the walls of Tegea after the rapid marchmg required in the 
attempted surprise of Sparta and Mantinea) determined upon a 
pitched battle with his antagonists. Of the exact number in his 
army we have no definite account. Xenophon and Diodorus 
are both accused of strong leaning to the Spartan side, exag- 
gerating the numbers of the Thebans. It seems probable that 
the forces actually engaged in the battle were about equally 
matched. Epaminondas had between two and three thousand 
horse, but they had been roughly handled in the cavalry fight 
with the Athenians around the wall of Mantinea a few days pre- 
vious. They were all native Thebans and Thessalians. The 
infantry of his army was made up by the celebrated Theban 
Sacred Band and the Boeotian hoplites, footmen of Euboea and 
Thessaly, Locrians and other allies of northern Greece. Then 
from the Peloponnesus he had been joined by all the Arcadians 
living along the Spartan frontier and hating the Spartans for old 
aggressions, and the Argeians and Messenians who had joined 
him for similar reasons. Both armies were filled with long tried 
and hardy soldiers ; both were confident of success, and eager 
for the coming battle. 

In the army of Epaminondas the order, " Prepare for battle," 
was received with great enthusiasm; the horsemen whitened 
their helmets ; the hoplites burnished up their arms and shields 
and sharpened sword and spear. Even the Arcadian peasants 
and villagers, who had nothing but clubs, were eager to take 



CG MANTINEA. 

their part in the fray, and so decorated their puny wooden shields 
with the Theban colors. The army marched out from the gates 
of Tegea full of hope and confidence. 

Once outside the gates, Epaminondas arranged his order of 
march. He with his chosen Thebans and Boeotians in the ex- 
treme lead; the Messenians, Arcadians, Euboeans followed, and 
last of all came the Argeians. The formation must have been 
peculiar, and was evidently the result of a good deal of study 
and planning. The road was broad ; the plain open and unob- 
structed. At the head of column strode the phalanx of Thebes, 
marching in files fifty deep, each " lochus," or company of fifty, 
headed by its " lochage," or captain, acting as file leader. Just 
how many of these files of fifty there were marching side by 
side we do not know. The Sacred Band alone would have six 
files, and it is probable that the other Theban battalions were 
no smaller than it — 300 men, and it would seem that at least 
two, and probably three or four, of these battalions marched side 
by side, forming a front of at least twelve and possibly of twenty- 
four men. This very deep, compact and heavy formation, how- 
ever, was confined to the Thebans and Bceotians. The Euboe- 
ans, Thessalians, and the Peloponnesian allies marched in lighter 
order, but all well closed toward the head of the column ; no 
such thing as straggling or opening out being permitted. 

From the gates of Tegea to the ridge on which the army of 
Sparta stood waiting their coming was perhaps five miles and a 
half, and until the last of his army was well outside those gates 
Epaminondas marched squarely up the road towards the centre 
of the enemy's position. Then all at once the whole army be- 
gan to incline well over to the west until it almost reached the 
foothills of the range, and now, disposing his cavalry along his 
right flank, the Theban commander resumed his northward 
march. He was aiming so as to march between the right flank 
of the Spartans and the mountains to the west. The move 
puzzled them, and the Spartan leaders could not understand its 
object. They crowded together in consultation, for the same 
extraordinary system prevailed, no one man being in chief com- 
mand. Up to the day of Leuctra, as has been said, there was 



EPAMINONDAS' NEW TACTICS. g? 

only one recognized way of fighting a battle — a simultaneous 
attack along the whole front. There, however, Epaminondas 
had taught Greece a lesson in fighting tactics that kept them 
all in awe of him. They were prepared to have him throw for- 
ward his right or his left in heavy charging column now, but — 
what did this mean ? From all accounts it would appear that 
by keeping his cavalry well out between him and the enemy 
Epaminondas prevented their seeing his formation. Otherwise 
there can be no excuse for the inaction of the Spartans then, or 
after the Thebans had halted. 

At all events, utterly unmolested, Epaminondas marched his 
column on up the ridge until the head of it was beyond or at 
least squarely in line with the Spartan right. Here he halted his 
men, closed their ranks, and then, deliberately facing them to 
their right, toward the east that is, he commanded " ground 
arms ; " and the wondering army of Lacedsemon came to the con- 
clusion that Thebes did not mean to fight that day. They had 
simply marched up to get within range, and now they were going 
into camp for a good rest before trying conclusions on the mor- 
row. Nobody seemed capable of explaining the matter other- 
wise. They could not see what Epaminondas himself was doing 
at the head of column because that veil of horsemen was still out 
bet'veen the Mantineans on their right and the Thebans and 
Boeotians ; but, back toward the centre and rear, it was plain to 
see that the Messenians, Arcadian renegades, as the Manti- 
neans regarded their countrymen serving with Thebes, and the 
Argeians had laid down their spears and shields and were idly 
waiting in ranks for the order to go into camp. Of course a 
corresponding change had to be made in the direction of the 
Spartan line so as to face that of Thebes, and probably before 
breaking ranks the change was made, swinging round in a great 
wheel to the west ; but then, with the Mantineans and Lacedae- 
monians on their right and right centre, the allies in the centre, 
the Ath~;nians on the left, and beyond them the skilled horsemen 
of Ath.'~ns, the army of Sparta threw down shield and spear, 
horsemen took off their own breastplates and the bridles of their 
Steeds, and in easy confidence and disorder sprawled about the 



68 MANTINEA. 

plain. On their right, however, their Eleian horsemen had to 
keep on the alert, for there they were confronted by the restless 
and mysterious movements of the Theban cavalry. 

And now, behind that cavalry screen, what was Epaminondas 
doing? Resuming in silence its arms and shields, the phalanx 
of Thebes and Boeotia was wheeled to the right, so as to bring 
each "lochage" or file-leader toward the Mantineans. Standing 
as they now did the new front of these battalions projected some 
distance out beyond the general line, which was never more than 
eight files in depth e.vcept the mass with which Epaminondas 
proposed to charge; and here, just as at Leuctra, he had formed 
it on the left of his line. Next the cavalry are suddenly 
drawn aside, the Theban and Thessalian horsemen trotting into 
their places on the left of the phalanx so as to face the horsemen 
of Elis. Another body rides off to the right rear of the Boeotian 
battalions to protect them in case the Athenian horse should de- 
':ect the move in time and strive to sweep down along the whole 
length of the line and take the phalanx in flank. Everything 
had been planned by Epaminondas beforehand. Everything 
moved like clock-work. Even the peltasts or light troops whom 
he designed to have act with the horsemen in the intervals be- 
tw"een their squadrons, even they were in place as the cavalry 
swept off to right and left, and revealed to the amazed eyes of 
the Spartan army the grand phalanx of Thebes — a bristling, 
compact, metallic mass just springing forward to the attack. At 
the same instant the signal " Take arms ! " rang along the Theban 
line, and the ready soldiers seized shield and spear, awaiting the 
signal to advance. 

And now, in haste and confusion, the allies of the Peloponnesus 
run to their places in ranks. Only the Eleian cavalry has re- 
mained ready for action, but, before they can trot to the front to 
throw themselves upon the left flank of the advancing Thebans, 
with wild shouts and clangor the horsemen of Bceotia and Thes- 
saly, ranged in deep columns somewhat like the infantry, come 
tearing down upon them in full charge. The men of Elis are 
only four deep ; the squadrons of Thebes are at least twelve, and 
mass and velocity are both in their favor. In three minutes the 



<9REEK MEETS GREEK. • gft 

Peloponnesian horsemen are tumbled over the plain or sent scat- 
tering off to the rear. Meantime the infantry has formed its 
lines, eight deep, and yet the men have barely got their places 
before the phalan.x is upon them. There, foremost of all, after 
the fashion of the day, fights Epaminondas ; the general-in-chief, 
armed and equipped like any of his comrades, on foot, with 
spear, sword, and shield, leads his men intr V'V.ctle. The stoutest, 
bravest of his officers fight by hi.« ?'f^*: then comes the fron*' 
rank of the phalan.x, made up as it is nf the most stalwart sol- 
diers of them all, the " lochages; " then, close at their heels, the 
compact thousand, moving with cadenced step as one powerful 
man. The shock is irresistible. In vain Spartans and Manti- 
neans throw themselves upon the wall of shields. They cannot 
penetrate that solid front ; they cannot bring mass enough to 
check the headway of that united rush. They fight desperately, 
gallantly; they back one another up; their overlapping flanks 
crowd in towards the centre. No man shirks, but they have no 
organization to resist this organized assault. Epaminondas with 
his tactics and science is sweeping all before him. Still the 
Spartans will not turn ; they are borne backward, but fighting 
every inch of the way. Greek has met Greek in deadly grapple, 
and now indeed is the tug of war. Then the Theban cavalry 
falls upon the flank of the Mantineans, and at last, as the head 
of the phalanx bursts through the opposing masses, the Spartans 
had to turn, /lad to run. And when Sparta could turn tail no 
other Greek need be ashamed to go. Noiv, as the Theban right 
and centre sweep forward in support, their opponents, even the 
men of gallant Attica, make no resistance of any consequence. 
In consternation at the utter rout of Sparta they too fall back 
before triumphant foemen, and the whole army of the Pelopon- 
nesus is in full retreat. 

But at what cost? Pressing forward in the ardor of pursuit, 
after killing a Spartan officer in hand-to-hand conflict, Epami- 
nondas receives a thrusting spear full in the breast, and is brought 
to earth. He had turned probably to cheer on his soldiers, had 
forgotten for an instant his guard, and a Spartan officer, seizing 
the opportunity, had dealt the fatal blow, leaving his spear 



»0 



MANTINEA. 



quivering m the body of the victor ; the handle broke, but the 
barbed point had taken deep root. 

The news spread like wildfire. The pursuit was instantly 
abandoned ; the army of Sparta was allowed to form again some 
few miles away. All the Thebans crowded in dismay about 
their prostrate chief All their hopes, all their confidence had 
been centred on him. Without him they were paralyzed, and 
what should have been an overwhelming and decisive blow to 
Sparta was turned into a mere temporary victory for Thebes. 

Epaminondas felt that his wound was mortal. The surgeons 
assured him that if the spear-head were withdrawn the rush of 
blood would end his life. First he inquired if his shield and 
arms were safe, and was assured that they were. Then he 
called for the two officers whom he most trusted, and to one of 
whom he probably intended to delegate the command. Both 
had been killed in the charge. " Then you must make peace 
with the enemy," said he, for there was now no one left who was 
competent to command. Then he directed the spear-head to be 
withdrawn, and with it the life went out of the greatest soldier 
Greece had yet known. With' it the power of Thebes departed. 
Peace was signed on the basis of an independence of the separate 
states, and the era of Epaminondas was over. 




BATTLE-FIELP OF MANTINEA. 



ARBELA. 




331 B. C. 

i^^ITH the death of Epaminondas at Mantinea 
all thought of Theban conquest died with 
him. His was the master mind of his day, 
and without him his state fell back to her 
former rank, and then, some twenty years 
after, all Greece found itself attacked an 
speedily overcome by a new antagonist- 
a neighbor hitherto little known and less 
feared. Rugged Macedon, her northern 
borderer, swept down and became mistress of the confederacy. 

In the old days of the military school at Thebes, while train- 
ing his Sacred Band, Epaminondas had received and educated 
a soldierly young Macedonian, a man who three years after 
Mantinea became ruler of his own province, and who speedily 
turned to good account the teachings of his youth. Philip, King 
of Macedon, began his reign in 359 B. C, and to him is due all 
credit for the adoption or invention of the most perfect military 
system known even to warlike Greece — a system that speedily 
made him the conqueror of all the nations around him ; that 
eventually made his renowned son the conqueror of the known 
world. Alexander the Great, when only twenty years of age, 
sprang to the throne vacated by the murder of his father, and 
during the eleven years of his reign he won a name as warrior, 
leader and general that has never been excelled. As a successful 
soldier he stands perhaps without a peer. 

The boyhood of this renowned chieftain had been spent mainly 
at the court of his father. King Philip. For his tutor and mentor, 
no less a scholar than the great Aristotle had been selected. 

(71) 



72 ARBELA. 

and his education, mental and physical, had been far more 
thorough than that of the noble youth of his day. His delight 
was in the history of warfare, however, and all his energies were 
bent to the mastery of that one science. His boyhood had 
been passed in scenes of strife, for the drunken old king on more 
than one occasion had striven to slay him in some insane fit of 
rage. Between father and son there was no accord ; and it was 
with eagerness, not filial regret, that Alexander took up the 
reins of government before he had fairly reached his majority. 
A brief campaign in southern Greece secured him the submission 
of Athens, already crippled by Thebes and Sparta. Then in 
solemn convention at Corinth he was chosen Imperator of the 
Greeks, despite the opposition of Sparta. Then followed his 
sharp and decisive war with Thrace, and a short campaign across 
the Danube, both eminently successful from a military point of 
view. But during his absence, emboldened by rumors of his 
death in distant lands, the Thebans rose and threw off the Mace- 
donian yoke, and then, to their consternation, after a wonder- 
fully rapid and skillful march, Alexander appeared suddenly 
before their gates to avenge the insult of their disloyalty. 
Thebes was razed to the ground and its garrison, scorning to 
plead for mercy, died to a man, sword in hand, while, to the 
lasting shame and subsequent bitter regret of the conqueror, 
hundreds of helpless women and children were slaughtered in 
cold blood. 

All this was accomplished within a year of his accession to 
the throne. His rule throughout the states of southeastern 
Europe was now undisputed, and with eager eyes he turned east- 
ward. There lay the fabulous wealth of the empire that for 
years had threatened and, up to the day of their crushing defeat 
at Platsea, invaded Greece. From his very boyhood the dream 
of his life had been the conquest of that array of nations still 
following the banners of the Great King, and, now that all was 
peace and quiet at home, he rapidly prepared for a counter- 
invasion. 

Alexander had neither wealth nor even 100,000 men. Macedon 
was poor, and Greece had been engaged in ceaseless civil strife 



REMARKABLK CAREER OF ALEXANDER. 73 

for an entire century and was well-nigh reduced to poverty, 
Alexander had the upper hand, however, and held it with iron 
grasp. It was indispensable that he should leave at home a suf- 
ficient force and an eneigetic viceroy to check incipient insur- 
rection before he could feel at liberty to move; and the home 
garrisons having been selected, and one of his father's most 
trusted officers — Antipater — assigned as ruler in his absence 
with full power to summarily crush any sedition or revolt that 
might arise, the young King of Macedon proceeded at once to 
Pella to organize his invading force. 

With only 30,000 infantry, 4,500 cavalry, and a small " train" 
of projectile-throwing machines, Alexander was ferried across 
the Hellespont in his own vessels and entered upon a series of 
conquests the like of which the world never saw. Macedonian 
by birth, he never again returned to the state of his nativity ; he 
never recrossed the straits. Adding year by year, month by 
month, to his immense possessions in Asia, he lived and died in 
the new empire won by his sword. 

Small as was his army, it was the most efficient ever yet seen 
upon the plains of Greece. It was the perfected machine of a 
century of e.xperiment. 

Already the Macedonian phalan.x, the creation of King Philip, 
had made itself known in Greece. Designed only to fight on 
open ground, and mainly to overcome the hitherto invincible 
hoplites of Athens, Sparta and Thebes, it was an established 
success. It had hurled back the heavy-armed pike and spear- 
men of Hellas, and the ponderous depth of the charging column, 
the tactical offspring of Epaminondas, was powerless against it. 
Unwieldy as an anvil though it may seem to us to-day, it had 
its uses. It was never beaten, says the historian Polybius, when 
attacked in front or on ground suitable for its massive man- 
CEUvres. Later we shall see how a still more scientific order, the 
Roman legion, ground it into powder. 

At the time of the first campaign of Alexander the " phalan- 
gites " of Macedonia were drawn up in separate files, each called 
■a lochus, of sixteen stalwart men ; the first man, or file-leader, 
was selected for superior strength, skill, courage and endurancei 



74 ARBELA. 

he was graded as a non-commissionsd officer ; the second, third 
and last men of the file were also picked soldiers, receiving 
higher pay than their fellows. While the lochus may have been 
the unit of organization, the lowest subdivision which appears to 
have been maintained and manoeuvred as a distinct command 
was the syntagma, a square battalion of sixteen lochi : a solid 
mass of men sixteen front, sixteen deep, each man having about 
two feet " fighting space." 

Allowing one foot depth and about twenty-two inches width 
or front as the space occupied by a soldier in ranks, and two feet 
space from back to breast throughout the files, we have a depth 
of forty-eight feet for the syntagma, and the front being equal 
to the depth there was a trifle over one foot of space between the 
shoulders of the men in the same rank or line. This space was 
needed, as will be seen when their armament is described. To 
each syntagma, posted outside the square, were attached five 
officers — the commander, a syntagmatarch (corresponding to our 
major), whose position was in front of the centre ; a second in 
command, who stood in rear of the battalion; an adjutant, a 
herald and a trumpeter, who accompanied the chief. 

When the casualties of war reduced the number of men in a 
syntagma and the vacancy could not be filled, a reduction was 
jnade in the front of the command, never in its depth. Sixteen 
deep was the invariable formation of the Macedonian phalanx, 
far deeper than had been considered necessary by any nation 
except Thebes. 

Such was the massive formation of the phalanx of Alexander. 
Now as to its armament — this, too, the device of King Philip. 
All Greece had done its fighting for years past with a sharp and 
heavy spear, falling back on its short sword only when the spear 
was broken or wrenched away. This spear, heavy as it was, and 
somewhat unwieldy, was handled only with the right, the left 
arm being cumbered with a ponderous shield that covered 
almost the entire person, and which could itself be used as an 
offensive weapon in headlong charge. 

Philip discarded the great shield, put a breast-plate on his pha- 
langites, and into their hands, both of which it took to wield it, 



THE ARMAMENT OF KING PHILIP. ^fi 

a tremendous spear, not less than twenty-one, some say twenty- 
four feet in length from tip to butt — the far-famed Macedonian 
sarissa. 

Advancing to the charge, or repelling attack, this weapon, 
grasped in both hands, was lowered nearly to the horizontal. It 
projected at least fifteen feet in front of the spearman, and the re- 
maining six or eight feet behind the hands was weighted to form 
a partial balance. The spears of the second rank projected 
twelve feet, those of the third nine feet, those of the fourth six, 
and those of the fifth three feet beyond the soldiers of the fore- 
most rank, the lochages themselves ; so that any soldier armed 
with pike, poniard or sword would have to hew his way in 
through all these spear-heads before he could hope to reach the 
foeman himself The sixth and following ranks did not lower 
the spear to the horizontal, but held it sloping over the shoulders 
of the ranks in front. 

This was the heavy infantry of Macedon, and to aid them, to 
cover their flanks and rear, were the light infantry of the line — 
shield and pike-bearers, drilled and disciplined like Grecian hop- 
lites, but trained for hand-to-hand combat. At first Alexander 
had but few of these guards, as he termed them — hypaspists as 
they are generally known — but they proved their usefulness on 
many a field, and were soon greatly added to. These infantry- 
men of the line occupied an intermediate place between the pha- 
langites and the skirmishers (peltastae), who were selected always 
from the auxiliaries, and at the time of his review of the army 
after entering Asia Minor and before his first encounter with 
Persia, his infantry was divided as follows : Phalangites and hy- 
paspists, 12,000; peltastae, 7,000; mercenary troops, 5,000, 
Thracian and Illyrian footmen, 5,000; archers, 1,000. 

Admirable as was the organization of his infantry, Alexander 
seems to have taken most, pride in the Macedonian cavalry, the 
favorite arm of the nation for years. " Companions " he termed 
his heavy cavalry, who were all native Macedonians, and of 
these, one pet squadron, the Agema, was the " King's Own," for 
at its head Alexander himself charged in person. Heavily clad 
in defensive armor, these horsemen carried a xyston, or heavy 



16 ARBELA. 

thrusting pike, a dreaded weapon in a melee, and a terrible foe- 
man did this heavy cavalryman prove in the shock of combat. 
To aid him and to cover his flanks, as the hypaspists sheltered 
those of the phalanx, was a large and well-trained body of light 
horse — lancers, in fact — armed with a light but long and power- 
ful sarissa. Then, again, it was soon in the power of Alexander 
to organize a very efficient body of irregulars from among the 
horsemen of the nations he overran, so that botli in cavalry and 
infantry he was provided with three distinct classes of troops : 
the " heavies," for attack in solid mass, bearing all before them 
in the impetus and weight of the charge ; the intermediate, or 
light linesmen, covering the flanks of the unwieldy mail-clad foot 
and horse, but fighting in serried ranks themselves ; and third, 
skirmishers and irregulars, hovering like falcons over front, flank 
and rear, the eyes and ears of his army. 

In addition to these troops and a rude artillery useful only 
when it came to the assault of fortified cities, Alexander had 
grouped about his person a corps of chosen men, the Body 
Guards, recruited from the sons of the chief men of Macedon, 
organized first as Royal Pages ; then, after severe training, to fit 
them for the bodily wear and tear demanded of those who were to 
accompany the monarch, himself the most energetic, untiring 
athlete of them all, they joined his guard, and from this promi- 
nent position under his vigilant eye were selected for various im- 
portant duties, being detached as adjutants for the various gen- 
erals or frequently assigned to high commands. The Royai 
Pages were the cadet corps of Macedon. 

Over them all was the monarch himself, a man of superb 
physique, a man of iron constitution and dauntless courage, a 
man who added to infinite personal bravery and restless energy 
the rapid inspiration of a military genius. Quick to seize on 
every and any advantage, quick to act, making his strategical 
combinations with unerring skill, md handling his troops upon 
the field of battle with rare tactical ability, planning everything 
before the fight, giving his orders with the clearness of day, then 
sharing the brunt of battle with the humblest soldier. 

Opposed to him and them was a neA^ Darius. Of this mon- 



NAPOLEON'S Critique. 77 

arch we know very little. He was accepted as ruler without 
much opposition apparently by the Persians ; was a descendant 
of one of the brothers of Artaxerxes Memnon, and had killed a 
formidable antagonist in single combat, so his authority was pas- 
sively accepted. He made himself conspicuous, however, by 
boasting that he had instigated the murder of Philip of Macedon, 
and by sneering at the boy-king who succeeded him — two 
things he learned speedily to regret. 

Persia had no such infantry as in the old days, either in num- 
ber or discipline. Her cavalry was still powerful and efficient, 
but when Darius hastened his forces toward the Hellespont to 
confront the army of Alexander, he could muster less than thirty 
thousand footmen. The fatal error had been committed of per- 
mitting the Macedonians to cross the straits, and now with only 
twenty odd thousand infantry, but at least that many well- 
equipped horsemen, all under command of a skillful general, 
Memnon, an attempt was made to fight in the open field. 

No more terse, comprehensive and soldierly critique of the 
campaign that followed has ever been written probably than that 
of the great Napoleon, who placed Alexander as one of the seven 
greatest generals of the world. Five days after leaving the Hel- 
lespont Alexander had forced the passage of the Granicus, scat- 
tering to the winds the army of Memnon. " He spent the whole 
year 333 in establishing his power in Asia Minor," says Napo- 
leon. " In the year 332 he met with Darius at the head of sixty 
thousand men who had taken up a position near Tarsus, on the 
banks of the Issus, in the province of Cilicia. He defeated him, 
took Damascus, which contained all the riches of the great king, 
and laid siege to Tyre. This superb metropolis of the commerce 
of the world detained him nine months. He took Gaza after a 
siege of two months, crossed the desert in seven days, entered 
Pelusium and Memphis, and founded Alexandria. In less than 
two years, after two battles and four or five sieges, the coasts of 
the Black Sea, from Phazis to Byzantium (now Constantinople), 
those of the Mediterranean as far as Alexandria, all Asia Minor. 
Syria and Egypt had submitted to his arms." 

Such, in brief, is the summary of one great soldier and con- 



78 ARBELA. 

queror of the two years' campaign of a great prcaecessor. It was 
in the year 331 that, returning from Egypt, Alexander re-entered 
Damascus, crossed the Euphrates and Tigris, and won the bloody 
and decisive battle of Arbela. 

Darius Codomannus had turned out to be a coward of the 
worst order. At the battle of the Issus, in the previous year, he 
5ed from the field in absolute panic, leaving his mother, his wife 
and children to fall into the hands of the victor. He led the re- 
treat in which so many of his thousands, hemmed in by the walls 
of the mountain defile through which they were compelled to rush 
for their lives, were trampled under foot by their own comrades. 
It is impossible to understand how the knights of Persia, who were 
unquestionably brave and warlike men, could ever have rallied 
to his defence a second time, but they did ; and on reaching Da- 
mascus on his return from Egypt, Alexander learned that Darius 
with an immense army lay east of the Tigris or Euphrates ready 
to contest his march to the interior. At the Issus the Persians 
were compelled to fight on ground where their numerical supe- 
riority hampered rather than aided them, but east of the Tigris, 
near the village of Gaugamela, lay a broad plain most favorable 
for the evolutions of a great body of men, and here Darius de- 
termined to make his stand. To this end he established his camp 
of supply at Arbela, some twenty miles east of the position which 
he had selected, and then systematically prepared the field for the 
coming conflict. This was to be the third and final attempt of 
Persia to crush the now dreaded conqueror. Ruin must inevi- 
tably await the vanquished army. If Alexander should prevail, 
all Persia lay at his feet. Babylon, Susa, Persepolis, the wealthy 
capitals, lay but a short distance to the south. On the other 
hand, could Darius but gather sufficient force to overwhelm the 
Macedonian, there would be no further foe to dread, for with the 
Tigris and Euphrates behind them, the army of Greece would be 
cut off from all possibility of retreat to the seaboard, and their 
fate would be annihilation. 

So far as number was concerned, Darius had no difficulty in 
bringing to his standard an army abundantly sufficient to over- 
whelm, outflank, surround and eventually destroy the solid 



THE CHOSEN BATTLEFIELD. 79 

little force of Macedon. Forty-seven thousand, all told, was 
the limit of the command, at the head of which Alexander 
crossed the Euphrates ; we have it from the journals of his two 
distinguished generals, Aristobulus and Ptolemy, whose records 
of the entire campaign have become the keystones of history, 
and against that number it was in the power of Darius to mar- 
shal at least ten to one. His cavalry force alone is put at forty 
thousand ; his infantry, archers and javelin-throwers were in 
myriads. Arrian says there were a million, but half that number 
would be more than Darius could handle in action. Elephants 
armed and caparisoned for war made their first appearance on a 
battle-field at Arbela; for, with all his numbers, Darius knew 
that some device must be resorted to to break through the 
hitherto impenetrable wall of the phalanx, and now he believed 
he had solved the problem. Two hundred war-chariots, drawn 
by powerful horses, driven by mail-clad men, provided with sharp 
scythes jutting out from the axles, and sword-blades projecting 
from the end of the pole, were daily exercised in charging across 
the plain. Every hillock had been razed, every hollow filled so 
as to present a level track for their advance, and with these en^ 
gines and his huge elephants, urged at headlong speed, Darius 
counted upon crushing his way into the heart of the phalanx, 
and then, launching forth his cavalry, to hew it into fragments. 

Confidently awaiting the coming of Alexander, he posted his 
immense force upon this plain of Kurdistan, facing a little west 
of north, his left resting near the Tigris, his right near the river 
Zab, a rapid and difficult branch that had taken him five days to 
cross. In front of him lay the vast level, along which he invited 
the foe to advance ; beyond that, three short miles away, lay the 
low range of hills, over which Alexander must come. Already 
Darius knew of his crossing of the Tigris, five days' march 
above him. Confident in his ability to crush, he had not op- 
posed by a single arm the trans'fer of the Macedonian army to the 
eastern bank. He wanted them to cross. It would place them 
utterly in his power. 

And now, deployed upon the field on which the destiny of 
Asia was to be decided, stood the army of King Darius. The 
6 



80 AaE£LA. 

left wing, under command of Bessus, Satrap of Baktria, was made 
up of Baktrians, Dahae and Arachosians, the native Persians, 
both horse and foot, the Susians and Kadusians. In the centre 
of the entire line was Darius himself with his chosen horse-guard, 
his division of Persian spearmen, successors of the " Immortals" 
of Xerxes, now carrying golden apples at the butt of their 
spears ; Karians and Mardians, his best archers, and the strong 
division of hireling Greeks, the only troops he dared hope could 
successfully cope with the phalanx should the phalanx force its 
resistless way in upon his chosen position. 

On the right lay the Syrians ; then in order, from right to left, 
the Medes, Parthians, Sacae, Tapyrians, Hyrkanians, Albanians, 
and Sakesinae. This was the main line. To the rear were vast 
forces from Babylon and the deserts to the west, the wilds to the 
east of Susiana. These seem to have been the reserves. In 
front of the left wing, nearest the Tigris, were posted one hundred 
of the scythed chariots, guarded by picked bodies of cavalry, 
Scythians and Baktrians. Fifty more were in front of Darius in 
the centre, and the remaining fifty in front of the right wing, 
covered by cavalry escorts from the Armenians and Cappadocians. 

From the fact that the preponderance of his force was from 
the centre to the left, it would seem that Darius expected 
Alexander to " hug" the Tigris in his advance, keeping his right 
secure from being flanked — a very reasonable supposition. And 
now, armed far better than they had ever been before, with strong 
swords and formidable thrusting-pikes in place of the puny jave- 
lins of the past, and protected for the first time in their history, 
the infantry by shields, the horsemen by breast-plates, the great 
army of Darius impatiently awaited the coming of the foe. 

But Alexander was in no hurry. Throwing forward a suf- 
ficient force to hold the crossing at Thapsacus on the Euphrates, 
he, by easy marches, reached that point about the end of August, 
crossed and turned northward toward the mountains instead of 
southward through the deserts, beyond which lay Babylon and 
Susa. Carefully watching the bearing of his men, guarding them 
against unnecessary' suffering or fatigue, he felt his way along the 
foothills towards the Tigris, and about the 20th of September 



FIRST SIGHT OF THE FOE. g^ 

learned that somewhere down around the town of Gaugafnela 
Darius awaited his coming. Then, for a day or two, he hurried 
forward, seized the fords of the Tigris, and, unopposed by the 
Persians, but with great difficuhy and danger, marched his army 
through the deep, rushing waters, and halted on the east bank 
to take breath, and two great rivers lay between him and his 
ships and supplies, three weeks' march away. 

A short rest is taken here while the scouts feel their way 
down to the southward, but they bring no definite tidings, and 
once more cautiously, steadily, the army of Macedon sets forth. 
For four days it moves down along the left bank of the Tigris. 
It is toward the evening of the fourth day that the advance 
sends in word of the presence of hostile cavalry, and Alexander, 
dashing in person to the front, charges, scatters them, captures a 
few prisoners, and from them learns that Darius with an immense 
army awaits him near Gaugamela on the plain below. He halts 
his army and goes forward to reconnoitre. Gaugamela lies be- 
yond a low range of hills to the southward, and there a tre- 
mendous struggle must take place. With wise discretion he 
rests his men four days more, that they may be fresh and vigor- 
ous for the fray; intrenches meantime his camp, places therein 
all stores, engines of war and equipage not needed in conflict in 
the open plain ; weeds his army of all weak men or ineffectives, fills 
up every gap in the sturdy phalanx; and then, with nothing but 
a superb and unhampered fighting force, he moves forward on 
the night of the fourth day of rest, deploys his line of battle, and 
in serried order marches upon the northern slope of the low hills, 
once again halting at their summit. From east to west the 
plain below swarms with the countless hordes of Darius. It is 
just daybreak, and Alexander pauses to survey the field. Away 
off to his own right flows the rapid Tigris ; far over towards the 
east leaps the torrent of the foaming Zab, and nearly from stream 
to stream stretches the great line of Asia's countless soldiery. 
With the practised eye of the veteran soldier, Alexander marks 
their vast superiority of numbers. Extend his line though he 
may, even in thin rank, he cannot cover that front. He marks 
the solid formation of the mercenary Greeks in the Persian cen- 



g2 ARBELA. 

tre, the threatening squadrons far out beyond his left, the mass- 
ing of the war-chariots on the Persian left and centre ; and, gazing 
along the plain, he sees where the engineers have been at work, 
the patches of freshly upturned earth — what do they portend? 
Pitfalls for his cavalry? What else, if not that? Too much is 
at stake to hazard an ill-advised move. He summons his gen- 
erals to immediate council. There on the heights they cluster, 
well out in front of the lines of Macedon, and the trained 
warriors, resting on their spears, watch with eager yet trustful 
eyes the deliberations of their chiefs. Fiery, impetuous men are 
there, leaders who have learned contempt for Persian prowess or 
valor, and many and vehement are the appeals for immediate at- 
tack. Around the king are grouped such soldiers as Aristobu- 
lus, his recorder and trusted aid ; Philotas, chief of his horse- 
guards ; Nicanor, general of hypaspists ; Meleazer, Coenus, 
Perdiccas, Simmais, Polysperchon and Craterus, brigade com- 
manders of the great phalanx; Eriguius, of the allied cavalry; 
Philippus, of the Thessalian horse, and, above all, the veteran 
Parmenio, cool, clear-headed, cautious, but indomitably brave. 
The men of Macedon were safe in the hands of such tried war- 
riors as these. Urgent as were some appeals for instant attack, 
the wiser counsel of Parmenio prevailed. Alexander spent the 
day in personally reconnoitring the entire plain, escorted by a 
small band of cavalry, but undisturbed by the enemy. His 
stores, supplies, " ineffectives " were moved forward from the 
camp of the night before, a new position intrenched for their 
protection on the heights, and, as the sun went down, Alexander 
summoned his generals once more to his presence, and in brief, 
ringing, soldierly words explained to them the situation, and then 
dismissed them, hopeful and enthusiastic, for their needed rest. 

All through the still September night the Persian army waits 
and wakes expectant of attack. Parmenio indeed had urged 
upon his sovereign the propriety of such attack because of the 
known tendency of the Asiatics to become timid and confused 
except in the open light of day, but Alexander disdained " to 
hlch a victory." In fair, soldierly conflict he meant to contest 
with Darius the empire of the East, and so while Persia watches 



DAWN OF DECISIVE BATTLE. gg 

and wearies through till dawn, the veterans of Macedon sleep 
soundly and well, waking with the rising sun vigorous and 
refreshed. 

And now the lines of Greece spring to arms, and before the 
eyes of overwhelming Asia the devoted little army straightens 
out its ranks, the phalanx silently, solidly, moves to the crest, the 
troopers vault into saddle and the squadrons sweep into line. 
Insignificant as may be its numbers when confronted by that vast 
host across the plain, there is that air of confidence and determi- 
nation about the men of Macedon that bids the observer think 
twice before hazarding an opinion as to the result. 

" You fight for the dominion of Asia," Alexander impressed 
upon his men. " Be silent, be steady. Let each man act as 
though the result of the battle depends upon his individual 
effort, and when the time comes to charge let the silence pre- 
served until then make your war-cry the more ringing, the more 
terrible." 

And now as it calmly awaits the signal to advance, the army 
of Alexander is drawn up in two lines, ready, if need be, to in- 
stantly form an immense hollow square, to repel attack on flank 
or rear. In all his career the youthful conqueror is destined to 
fight no battle so glorious as this, his greatest and most decisive ; 
therefore every item of preparation becomes of interest. 

On the right of his front line rode the regiments of horse 
guards, eight in number, each commanded by its colonel, all 
commanded by Philotas, the intrepid son of old Parmenio. On 
their left, at short intervals, are drawn up the light infantry of the 
line, hypaspists. Then, in the centre, in six magnificent brigades, 
stand the massive syntagmata of the phalanx itself, and to their 
left again are the other divisions of hypaspists protecting the 
deep flanks of the heavy brigades, while the light infantry in 
turn are covered by cavalry, as in the right wing ; the regiments 
of Eriguius, all allies, being nearest the footmen, while the ex- 
treme flank is held by the five squadrons of Thessaly. 

In every detail of its formation the line is scientific and sym- 
metrical. The reserve line is equally so. Its centre is composed 
of phalangite infantry, heavy and solid as the brigades of Ihe 



84 ARBELA. 

nrst line; each flank covered by light infantry and archers, with 
regiments of horse, heavy and mail-clad near the centre, light 
and armed with lances on the extreme flanks. The tried troop- 
ers of Aretus are among those on the right, and their orders are 
to watch well for any attempt of the Persians to wrap around the 
flank of the first line, to charge instantly i. the attempt be made, 
and so to outflank the would-be flankers. Similar dispositions 
and orders are given the cavalry of the left wing. A division of 
Thracian footmen is detailed to guard the camp, and all is 
ready. 

Not quite. His careful examination of the plain has taught 
Alexander that those fresh patches of earth are not pit-falls, but 
depressions filled and hillocks graded down. The conclusion is 
obvious. Darius means to attempt to rush his chariots at racing 
speed upon the phalanx and hurl down the hitherto impregna- 
ble wall of spears. What can be done to checkmate so power- 
ful a move? Out from the ranks of the allies and light troops 
spring a cloud of elastic, nimble-footed young fellows, keen-eyed 
and daring. For all the world like our modern skirmishers, they 
swarm to the front; their arms are bows or javelins; their 
quivers bristle with arrows. Out still farther they run, two — 
three hundred yards — till the entire front of the phalanx is cov- 
ered by little knots and groups of these eager hunters. Trained 
shots and swift racers as they are, woe to charioteer, woe to 
horse that may dash among them : few will ever penetrate half- 
way toward the bristling wall of spearmen. 

And now, glittering in his brilliant armor, Alexander of Mace- 
don rides with his noble agema to the right front. Parmenio 
takes his station with the left. Well out beyond his bravest 
squadrons the conqueror reins his steed, gives one searching 
glance along his line, and then with mighty throb at heart sig- 
nals the advance. In ominous silence, in perfect order, in mas- 
sive, stately array, with one accord the compact army of Greece 
begins the descent. 

It is the first day of October, three hundred and thirty-one 
years before the birth of Christ, and the stake for which the con- 
test opens is the empire of the world. 



PERSIA'S OPPORTUNITY. 35 

Macedon makes the first move — a general advance of the en- 
tire line until it clears the crest. Then a deflection. Darius, 
nervously watching the machine-like perfection of the manoeuvre, 
waiting until those confident lines shall have swept clear of the 
slopes and entered upon the open plain before making his coun- 
termove, suddenly starts with impatience and disquiet. Alexan- 
der, instead of coming squarely at him, is now inclining to 
the west. The solid phalanx is obliquing to the right, and 
they are still well up the slope. What does it mean ? He 
pauses irresolute, staring at the placidly, smoothly moving troops 
of the opposing array. At this rate the extreme left of the lines 
of Macedon will soon be directly in front of his own position, 
and the phalanx he desires to crush is edging over to his left 
As yet the vast length of his line far overlaps towards the west 
the right flank of Macedon, but soon even that advantage will 
be lost. Stupefied, possibly, by this utterly unlooked-for move, 
he fails to see and grasp the immense advantage he now has over 
the Grecian left. He is puzzling over the object of Alexander's 
oblique, and while precious moments are wasted, makes ne sign. 
Suddenly it flashes upon or is pointed out to him. His wary 
antagonist has read the secret of those tell-tale patches on the 
plain, he expects the dash of those terrible chariots, and is edg- 
ing over towards the Tigris where the hillocks have not been 
leveled, and where the chariots will be powerless. Already he 
is well out upon the plain ; already the phalanx is opposite the 
Persian left. Now or never, Darius, in with your chariots ! 
There is still time for them to act, provided you can check that 
oblique and force him back to the leveled ground. Now, 
Scythians and Baktrians, out with your pikes and cimeters I 
sweep well over to the left and front, then wheel and crash in 
on that western flank. Away they go — four .thousand glorious 
horsemen, their burnished weapons flashing in the sun, their 
wild war-cry thrilling on the air ; but even as they circle IJke 
poising hawk upon their prey and come thundering in upon the 
Macedonian right, a thunder as deep, a war-ciy low, hoarse ^rd 
intense, bursts in upon their own advance. The squadrons of 
Menidas have met them. Aretus has charged forward from th'i 



36 ARBELA. 

second line, and the horsemen of Bactria and Scythia go down 
in scores before them. No chance for the chariots yet. All the 
cavalry of his left wing Darius launches in to the rescue of his 
first assault, and again the Macedonian second line is equal to 
the emergency, and the regiments of Ariston and Cleander whirl 
to the front. Persia has numbers ; Greece has discipline and 
skill. For a brief half hour, while the first line sturdily moves 
unbroken — while Darius, paralyzed with chagrin, holds in im- 
potent halt his entire centre and right — the battle of Arbela is 
a cavalry combat on the side of the Tigris, and the serried 
squadrons of Greece, animating, supporting, relieving one an- 
other, are hewing through ten times their number of better 
armed horsemen, and presently their disciplined array sends the 
whole force of Persian cavalry of the left wing reeling and 
broken from the field. 

But the oblique is checked, and now for once at least displaj- 
ing some degree of soldierly vim and dash, Darius hurls forward 
his impatient charioteers. With one simultaneous rush, with hue 
and cry, the thunder of hoofs, the rattle of harnes.s, the roar of 
wheels, tossing skywards huge billows of dust in their wake, the 
two hundred armed chariots sweep down upon the undismayed 
phalanx. Those in front of the Persian left drive straight to the 
front; those from the centre find their objective point directly 
opposite; but those from the right centre and right wing have to 
wheel over to the left, converging on the spears of Macedon. 
For an instant the uproar is terrific. Nothing can be seen from 
the Persian centre through that dense cloud of dust ; but the 
shouts of defiance, the horrible din of hammered shields, then 
shrieks and cries of wounded men and the neigh of terror of 
many a stricken horse, come floating back to the eager listeners, 
where, bending forward in their saddles, fresh bodies of cavalry 
impatiently await the result and the signal to charge. The roar 
of the wheels, the thunder of hoofs, is subsiding ; then back 
through the dust-cloud come maimed and limping horses ; back 
come empty chariots, and, as the cloud settles to earth, yon 
stands the phalanx impregnable as ever, while the ground in 
front is " heaped with bleeding steeds," dismantled cars and ft 



THE PERSIAN CHARGE. 87 

or dying- charioteers. Far to the rear of the phalanx some eight 
or ten have managed to push through long lanes made for them 
by the nimble soldiery ; but there their drivers are hewn to 
earth and the war-horses are easy prey. More than three-fourths 
of their number never get within reach of the spears. The 
light-footed, daring archers and dart-men pick off drivers and 
horses as they advance, or, racing beside them, cut the traces or 
rip open the bodies of the steeds. King Darius marks with rage 
and dismay that the arm on which he had placed his main re- 
liance is as impotent, as harmless as the summer breeze. He 
had ordered a wary advance, calculating on finding confusion 
and dismay in the ranks before him; but, as the remnants of his 
chariot chargers come drifting back, he sees with utter conster- 
nation the unbroken lines of Macedon, silent, unmoved, impas- 
sive as ever. Now comes the vital moment. He must meet 
those spearmen after all. 

And now, with all its Oriental splendor of costume, all its 
half-barbaric pomp, the great line of Darius surges forward in 
obedience to the orders given as the chariots rushed in. Far 
over to the right Mazaeus, impatient of delay, swings out a great 
body of horse from his flank and sends them charging home upon 
the exposed left and lightly defended rear of the Macedonian 
line, while he himself, with a vastly superior force, pushes to the 
front and vigorously attacks the Thessalian horse of Phillipus, 
and crowds in upon the Locrian and Phocian and Peloponnesian 
cavalry nearer the centre. This, indeed, is a spirited attack, and 
one well calculated to overthrow all before it. But Parmenio, 
cool, steady as a rock, calls up his second line, and with ringing 
shout the Thracian horsemen charge to the rescue. Bold riders 
are they and experts with pike and short sword ; nevertheless 
they are but few compared to the mighty host into which they 
dash so recklessly. They halt, and even hurl them back, but 
weight of numbers is telling sorely against them. For the next 
half hour the left is locked in dubious strife, a rattling hand-to- 
hand combat. Meantime, what of the right ? 

Up to the moment when the dust-cloud settled over the wreck 
of that mad chariot charge not a sound had been heard from 



gg ARBELA. 

the main body, the phalanx of Macedon, or from the heavy cav- 
alry on their right. Now, as the Persian array sweeps forward 
and its eastern flank swings round to envelop his left, the stern- 
set features of the young king light suddenly with an eager joy. 
He points to the front. There, directly on the west flank of the 
Greek mercenaries of Darius, a great gap appears in the line. 
Before the chariot dash, a division of Baktrian cavalry was there 
massed in close column, but now they have been moved around 
in support of the thwarted attack on Alexander's right, and as 
yet they have not been replaced from the second line. It is a 
magnificent chance. Quick as ringing words can shout the 
order, the silence of Macedon is broken ; with one mad, terrific 
shout the body-guards, the devoted " companions," the cuiras- 
siers of Greece spring forward at the heels of their daring chief. 
The cavalry of Macedon plunges into that fatal gap, hewing 
and rending right and left, while the grand phalanx, shouting 
its war-cry, bears down in solid, resistless onslaught upon the 
Persian centre. Before them the Greek hoplites, hirelings of 
Darius, go down like reeds before the blast. They are ashamed 
of their part in the contest. They cannot fight manfully against 
kith and kin for a king whom they despise and only serve for 
gold. They make but faint resistance: they upon whom Darius 
dared base his hope of firmness. And now — his chariots gone, 
his Greeks going — he looks in dismay about him. He cannot 
see how superbly on the distant right his cavalry have engulfed 
the reeling wing of Parmenio ; he cannot see that there are yet 
myriads of his troops unemployed, only waiting the order of 
some inspired chief to send them in to check and overthrow 
these daring foemcn ; he will not see that still between him and 
the advancing forest of spears there stand the guards of his realm 
— the heroic and devoted knighthood of Persia; the enthusiastic 
soldiery of Karia ; the Sakae ; the men of the valleys of Eu- 
phrates and Tigris, who now are fighting for their homes. 
Brave as lions they, far outnumbering the phalangites, whose 
six charging brigades are surrounded by their dense throngs. 
He forgets that an army of lions led by a lamb is of no avail 
against an army led by a lion. He sees before him the invincible 



DARIUS' COWARDLY FLIGHT. gg 

spearmen who routed him in panic at the Issus. Worst o) all, 
oyer there to the left front, he sees a sight that freezes the craven 
blood in his veins — a stalwart, herculean, centaur-like warrior, 
clad in burnished mail, hewing his way with frightful force through 
men-at-arms, archers, horsemen, all ; he sees him pointing to- 
wards the very spot on which he is standing quivering in grow- 
ing terror; he hears his voice ringing above the roar of conflict, 
urging on his invincible guards : " Strike home ; cut through. 
Get liim, dead or alive — get him — Darius. There he stands. 
Follow me ! " and Darius can stand no more. Shame, dishonor, 
disgrace, a craven death are before him as he turns ; but before 
his guard can realize it, long before his nobles will believe it, he 
has turned his back upon them ; again, as at Issus, basely, foully, 
contemptibly deserted them, and while they are dying by scores 
in supposed defence of his royal body, he, the dastard and pol- 
troon, is spurring from the field. With victory in his grasp, he 
is sneaking to the mountains. 

Soon the news of his shameful flight is passed from mouth 
to mouth along the panting, bleeding cohorts. Band after band, 
group after group, the faint-hearted ones are falling away; then 
whole squadrons, whole battalions, begin recoiling upon the 
lines in rear ; and they in turn are hearing the tidings, " Darius 
has fled. The king has gone ! " and so, little by little, as the 
cavalry of Macedon hew their way in after tlieir glorious leader 
and those terrible spear-heads at the front thrust deeper into the 
yielding mass before them, the weight of numbers that so long 
has borne against their advance loses its power, and, sudden as 
the burst of mountain torrent through yielding gorge of ice, the 
men of Macedon hurl aside the last remnants of the Persian 
centre, and now all is mad carnage and pursuit. 

Away, stretching out across the plain to the southeast, the 
fugitives, broken, disordered, making no pretence of stand any- 
where, are fleeing for the bridge across the swollen Zab. The 
centre gone, the best troops slaughtered or scurrying after 
their king, the Persian left lost heart, and here the worn but 
gallant cavalry of Menidas and the Pseonian horsemen of Aretus 
overthrew, after long and desperate battle, five times their weight 



90 ARBELA. 

of foes. The Baktrian horse tore away in the wake of Darius, 
and all that was left of the crushed line lay dead or dying on the 
field, or gasping in the dense cloud of dust that obscured their 
path. 

Eagerly ■ Alexander pushes in chase. Above all things, he 
must secure the person of Darius. Great, indescribable as is his 
triumph, it is incomplete without the capture of the Persian king. 
It is with bitter disappointment, therefore, that he receives the 
message from Parmenio : " Come back to us or we are lost." 
The left wing of Macedon was utterly surrounded and cut off 

We left Parmenio struggling in dire earnest with ten times 
his force, while the cuirassiers and the phalangites of Macedon 
charged and broke the Persian centre. Even before that grand 
advance the chiefs of the two left brigades of the phalanx, those 
of Simmais and Craterus, were apprehensive as to the safety of 
the light troops of the left wing. So much so that, though 
taking part in the general rush to the front and attack on the 
Persian centre, they stopped short when it came to pursuit, leav- 
ing the other brigades to complete the rout while they promptly 
faced about and returned to the aid of Parmenio, now desperately 
in need. Even as they retired for this purpose a large force of 
Indian and Persian cavalry, led by some adventurous and gallant 
spirit who had determined not to join the retreat until he had 
made his mark upon the foe, dashed through the gap between 
the two separating bodies of the phalanx, and driving way to the 
rear without meeting much opposition (the second line being 
almost entirely absorbed in the combats on the flanks), succeeded 
in surprising and capturing the guards of the camp, liberating 
Persian prisoners and playing havoc among the supplies of 
Alexander. Engaged in plunder, they took no note of the 
rapid rally of a portion of the troops of the second line who now 
came tearing to the rescue of the camp, and in the struggle that 
followed a large number of the hostile cavalry were killed, the 
rest driven off southward and eastward again, not even stop- 
ping to assist their fellows in the desperate struggle going on 
between Mazseus and Parmenio. 

And now, although no succor had yet reached him from 



DKSPKRATE VALOR. $J 

Alexander, that sturdy old soldier had taken heart again on 
seeing the ruin and dismay of the Persian centre and left. The 
horsemen of Mazaeus were, on the other hand, as profoundly 
depressed, and the result was that, unsupported, the firm Thes- 
salian and allied Greek horse and light troops succeeded, after 
a mighty effort, in bursting through the myriad soldiery encom- 
passing them, and, sturdily charging ahead, drove them from 
the field. The whole army of Darius, led by the king in person, 
was now in ignominious flight. 

Returning from pursuit with his heavy cavalry and horse- 
guards, Alexander encountered several fine brigades of Persian 
horse seeking to retire from the field in dignified and soldierly 
manner. Cut off from retreat by his dispositions, they had no 
alternative but surrender or force their passage through, and 
chose the latter like men. Accustomed as they were mainly to 
missile-fighting, they were no match for the mail-clad pike and 
swordsmen of Macedon, ant' here again the losses of the 
Asiatics were very severe. They fought with desperate valor, 
killing no less than sixty of the Macedonian horse and wound- 
ing a much greater number, among them the generals Hephses- 
tion, Coenus and Menidos, ./ho had fought gallantly on the 
right earlier in the day. With the departure of those who suc- 
ceeded in cutting through, the last fighting foeman had left the 
field. The glorious battle of Arbela, the greatest and most de- 
cisive of his career, of his time, was won, and Alexander of 
Macedon had virtually conquered Asia. 

Accompanied now by Parmenio, he presses forward in vigor- 
ous pursuit. No time, no place must be given that routed army 
to make a stand. A vast portion of the Persian force had not 
been engaged at all, but stood huddled together in helpless con- 
fusion, and when the rout began only, as at Issus, swelled the 
panic. Large numbers were taken or hunted down and slain, 
especially at the bridge across the Zab, where for a time the 
chase was arrested, as both horses and men were greatly fatigued", 
but early on the morning of the following day Alexander again 
pushed on, entered Arbela only to find Darius gone, and the 
city, with immense treasure, with arms and equipage, together 



92 ARBELA. 

with the great camp, its supplies, its camels and elephants, all fell 
into the hands of the conqueror. 

Of the losses in this momentous conflict we have to decide be- 
tween accounts which vary widely. Arrian puts the Macedonian 
killed at only one hundred, and that of the Persians at three 
hundred thousand, which is incredible — on both sides. It is 
probable, however, that the loss of Alexander, in killed, did not 
exceed three or four hundred, though his wounded were far 
more numerous. As for the Persians, whatever may have been 
the actual loss in slain — and it must have been immense — the 
moral effect of the battle was as great as though the entire force 
had been put to the sword. The prodigious army was utterly 
ruined. It never rallied, it never could be reassembled. Arbela 
\vas the grave of the Persian empire. Babylon and Susa sur- 
rendered forthwith, and the conquerors marched in to the enjoy- 
ment of a spoil exceeding their wildest anticipations. Even the 
soldiery were enriched by the lavish distribution of captured gold. 

The causes of this great defeat may be briefly ascribed to the 
dastardly cowardice of Darius and the stolid uselessness of much 
of his force. It is estimated that not more than one-fourth of 
his army took any part in the affray, except as spectators, and 
when Darius did give any order, it was almost sure to be un- 
fortunate ; the detachment of his Baktrian di\^ision from the left 
centre, front line, for instance, was an incredible blunder. He 
had dozens of regiments of cavalry, equally reliable, in his re- 
serve line ; but he must needs open this fatal gap in his very 
centre, and the genius of Alexander drove therein the entering 
wedge that rent the army in twain. On the other hand, the 
skill, the promptitude, the masterly generalship of him of Mace- 
don shone forth in every combination and move, and the superb 
dash and bravery which prompted him to fight ever among the 
foremost troopers was in vehement contrast with the wretched 
break-down of the Persian monarch, the first to take refuge in 
cowardly flight. Treacherous as was the conduct of his satrap 
Bessus, in the near future, one can almost forgive him the cold- 
blooded slaughter of such an arrant dastard and poltroon as 
Darius. 



EARLY DEATH OF ALEXANDER. 



93 



Two hundred years before, Persia was mistress of the Eastern 
world. Attempting to sweep over Europe, she was checked at 
Marathon, overthrown and driven back at Plataea and Salamis; 
then, Httle by little, sapped of her once prodigious strength. 
Three hundred and thirty-five years before Christ the little king- 
dom of Macedon marched eastward its armies to turn the tables 
on the would-be conquerors. At the Granicus its young king 
overrode a more numerous army than his own ; at Issus he ad- 
ministered an overwhelming defeat ; at Arbela he became master 
of Asia. Had he lived he might have been monarch of the 
world ; but, dying at Babylon in the midst of his triumphs, his 
great empire was divided up among his generals, and within less 
than a century in strife among their descendants the fruits of his 
conquests were consumed, and Macedonian sway in Asia died 
out forever. 




BATTLE-FIELD OF ARBELA. 




2i6 B. C. 

*Vx EANTIME, while Greece was occupied with 
her internal dissensions, two new powers were 
rising into prominence to the westward ; and 
north and south of the Mediterranean those 
great nations that soon were to contend for 
the control of western Europe, as Macedon 
and Persia had fought for the dominion of 
the 'East, Rome and Carthage, were, year by 
year, developing into sturdy and dominant 
states. Three centuries before Christ, while 
the great generals of Alexander were dividing among themselves 
the provinces won by their heroic chieftain, now lying in his 
grave, Sicily had risen to be a power on the Mediterranean. 
Syracuse, her great seaport, rivalled Tyre before its sack by Alex- 
ander, and Agathocles, tyrant of Syracuse, had waged war for 
years against the shores of northern Africa, and, invading Car- 
thage, had brought about great havoc and distress. But Car- 
thage rallied from the blow, and finally expelled her foeman, 
rebuilt her ships and shrines, and two hundred and seventy 
years before Christ had determined on a counter-stroke. Doubt- 
less she would have been successful in her projected assault, but 
the rival power that had now at last succeeded in mastering the 
whole Italian peninsula, from the Rubicon to the Straits of Mes- 
sina, claimed a prior right to the fertile and populous island at 
its foot, and Rome clashed with Carthage in a battle of the 
giants. 

Like Carthage, Rome, too, had risen from late humiliation 
and defeat. Samnium had driven her under the yoke after a. 
capitulation that shamed the whole nation ; but in the indomit- 
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THE YOUNG COMMANDER. 9^ 

able will and patient, steadfast effort and endurance of the people. 
Rome had gone firmly onward and upward. Samnium was 
finally conquered, Etruria brought to terms, and the savage ' 
Gauls of the north defeated again and again. And now, to es- 
tablish her claim to Sicily, she found it necessary to war with 
Carthage, and in 264 B. c. the first Punic war, the first of those 
historical campaigns that are studded with names so brilliant in 
military history, broke forth upon the Mediterranean. Partly 
by sea, partly by land, for twenty-four years the fight went on, 
and then Carthage sued for peace. Sicily became a province of 
Rome. 

Then Carthage suffered at home from a new cause. The mer- 
cenaries she had brought back across the sea from Sicily re- 
volted and nearly destroyed her. and, profiting by those domestic 
troubles, Rome wrested from her prostrate rival the rich island 
of Sardinia. This intensified the bitterness of feeling already 
existing, and Hamilcar Barca, the valiant leader of Carthage, re- 
solved upon invading and conquering Spain, and from there re- 
newing at some future time the struggle with Rome. The revolt 
being crushed at home, he speedily put this project into execu- 
tion, taking with him a beloved son, a mere boy at the time ; and 
thus in Spain, Hannibal, the one soldier of I'hose years whose 
achievements vie with those of Alexander, learned his early les- 
sons in the art of war ; and, like Alexander, when in the first flush 
of rr.anhood, only twenty-six years of age, he found himself chicf- 
in-command of the armies of his nation, 221 )'ears before Christ 
— one century after the conqueror of the East had met his fate 
at Babylon. 

Hannibal's first martial achievement was the attack and cao- 
ture of Saguntum on the Ebro, an ally of Rome; and, quick to 
take offence, Rome declared and opened the second Punic war. 
At this time it was in the power of Rome to put into the field 
a force of seven hundred thousand foot and seventy thousand 
horse. She had for five or cix years been waging spirited war 
with the Cisalpine Gauls and had conquered their country along 
the Po, forming the colonies of Cremona and Placentia, which 
were soon to play so important a part in the grand struggle now 
7 



9g CANNyB, 

fairly entered upon. Against her Carthage could muster nowhere 
near so large a disciplined force, but her ranks were filled with 
soldiers admirably equipped for war, and her Spanish infantry 
and her own footmen were as reliable as those of Rome. The 
general appearance of a Carthaginian army must have been 
motley in the last degree ; for the most opposite nations, from re- 
gions the most remote from one another, were crowded into her 
service. Mobs of half-naked Cauls marched side by side with 
disciplined Iberians, clothed in their scarlet-trimmed coats of 
glistening white linen. Carthaginians, native, and Africans 
from all along the northern coasts, were mustered with the 
savage allies from Liguria. Stone-slingers from the Balearic 
isles covered their advancing front, and while, under the vehe- 
ment administration of Hamilcar and his brother, and the great 
son who succeeded hi l1, the cavalry of Carthage rose to rank as 
the most pow:'-'"'iI and efficient the world had yet seen, there 
rode on thei; flanks, ready for any emergency, wild bands of 
light horsemen on the fleetest chargers. These were the savage 
warriors of the Numidip.n deserts, men who fode like centaurs, 
scorning saddle or bridle. Of these undisciplined but invaluable 
light troops Carthage had myriads, and in strange contrast with 
their agile dash and scurry were the ponderous movements of 
the great war-elephants driven by skilled negroes. The Spanish 
infantry were protected by massive shield and helmet, and bore 
as weapons only the short, sharp, two-edged, weighty sword, 
with which they did terrible execution at close quarters and 
v.'hich weapon Rome had before this learned to respect, to adopt 
and to use. The African linesmen bore at first only a light 
shield and long spear. The Gauls carried long javelins and 
huge broadswords, and there were scores of allies who served as 
archers and dartmen. Deficient as Hasdrubal had been in the 
numbers of his cavalry, Hannibal had too great respect for the 
arm to move without a strong force of horsemen, and of these 
we shall hear later. 

Once assured of the capture of Saguntum by Hannibal, Rome 
sent envoys to Carthage demanding that he and his principal 
generals be surrendered to their nation for this attack upon her 



THE GIANT OF HIS CENTURY. 97 

ally. A war of words ensued, and a dramatic scene in council, 
where Fabius, the Roman envoy, swung loose his toga in the 
face of the dignitaries of Carthage, exclaiming : " Then here we 
give you war! " and news of the declaration was speedily con- 
veyed to Hannibal in Spain. He was thirsting for it. He had 
vowed eternal vengeance against Rome. Already he was the 
master spirit of Carthage, as he speedily became the great cen- 
tral figure of his time. With Rome, consul after consul might 
fall in defeat; legion after legion suffer annihilation, but still the 
people and their indomitable senate rose superior to all disaster. 
No one man could represent Rome. Even Scipio, he who car- 
ried the war into Africa in after days, was but a son of Rome : 
a servant of her senate, the elect of her people ; but Hannibal was 
the giant of his century. Hannibal was Carthage, and for a time 
we shall see how th^ almost superhuman energy and will of 
this one great soldier ruled one nation and well-nigh ruined 
another. 

His great opportunity lay now before him. Quickly he sum- 
mons from Africa, under his own brother, Hasdrubal, all the 
native troops left in Carthage ; sends to replace them sturdy gar- 
risons from Spain, and then at New Carthage marshals his army, 
announces to them his long-cherished purpose, the invasion of 
Italy, and with 90,000 foot, 1 2,000 horse and a number of war- 
elephants, be marches northward. The reduction of the tribes 
between the Iberus and the Pyrenees detains him less time than 
Rome had expected, but costs him many men, whom he is 
forced to leave behind as garrisons or lost in action. He bursts 
through into France with but 50,000 foot and 9,000 horse, but 
the celerity of his move is such that Rome, springing forward 
with her fleet to the mouth of the Rhone and disembarking Scipio 
(P. Cornelius) with his army to meet the invader, finds to her 
dismay that Hannibal has already gone on his way up that broad 
valley. No use to follow. The tribes are hostile, the country 
unknown. Hannibal has a commanding lead and probably 
cannot be overtaken. Scipio hurries back to Italy to organize 
a force to meet him as he issues from the defiles of the Alps, 
but, by a master-stroke of genius, sends his army on to 3pain, 



98 CANN.«. 

there to hamper and break up the power of Carthage ; to destroy 
her influence, and eventually to rob Carthage of the Spanish 
forces that might have made her invincible when herself invaded. 
Publius Cornelius Scipio was la}-ing the foundation for his son's 
superb victory at Zama. 

Meantime, through the dry heat of September, Hannibal was 
striding up the valley into the heart of France. The crossing of 
the Rhone was difficult, dangerous, contested by hostile tribes 
on the eastern shore, but science had carried him over, even his 
unwieldy elephants ; and now he begins that marvellous passage 
of the Alps that has won the admiration of all soldiers to this 
day. Only a narrow, tortuous, treacherous mountain trail leads 
across the great barrier, and swarms of savage natives hang over 
the precipices with rock and boulder to dash upon the climbing 
column below. It is the slow work of weeks. He ascends the 
valley of the Isere and finds himself under the Little St. Bernard, 
with Mont Blanc towering off" to the left, on the ninth day after 
leaving the plains of France. It is the end of October now ; 
snow is deep on those lofty summits ; great suffering and hard- 
ships have been endured by all. His starving elephants are well- 
nigh exhausted, and he had only thirty-seven on crossing the 
Rhone. Hundreds of his Numidian cavalry, accustomed only 
to the sands of the desert, have perished from cold ; hundreds 
have been hurled down the yawning gulfs below or crushed by 
the rocks tumbled from above. All are weakened and wavering 
— all but Hannibal. His energy, spirit, ardor never desert him. 
He calls them together, worn and haggard as they are, and 
strives to inspire them with his own buoyant hope. He points 
eagerly to the valley far below to the southeast. " That valley 
is Italy," he says, " and there, but a few days' march away, shall 
we find corn and wine and oil. Beyond it, rested, strengthened, 
reinforced by the Gauls already eager to join with us against 
their hated foe, we shall find the road to Rome." Two days 
of rest and then the descent begins. It is even more difficult 
than the climb from France. In many places the road is gone 
entirely, but lie urges on his army, and at last in triumph leads 
them forth upon the level watered by the Doria Baltea, and 



THE FIRST ENCOUNTERS. 99 

out upon the bright, broad valley of the Po. But in that adven- 
turous march from the Pyrenees to the Po he has lost 33,000 
men. He has but 20,000 infantry and 6,000 cavalry left him, 
and men, horses and the remaining elephants are well-nigh 
exhausted. Yet with this little force he dares continue. 

Meantime Scipio had crossed the Apennines, assumed com- 
mand of the Roman forces, and moved rapidly forward by way 
of Placentia. Both generals were eager for action. The armies 
met near the Ticino, and in a sharp and decisive conflict the 
Numidians and heavy cavalry of Carthage overthrew the horse- 
men of Rome and scored a victory for Hannibal. Scipio fell 
back, amazed and discomfited, and took refuge under the walls 
of Placentia. Hannibal followed, passing by, and, throwing his 
army across the Roman line of communication with Ariminum, 
strove to taunt him to another battle. Meantime heavy rein- 
forcements were hurrying forward to Placentia under the other 
consul, Sempronius. They joined Scipio on the Trebia, a little 
stream flowing from the southward into the Po, west of Placentia, 
and here, with 40,000 men, Sempronius (who found himself in 
command owing to the severity of the wound received by his 
colleague at the Ticino) conceived himself strong enough to 
attack Hannibal in camp. It was midwinter; the stream was 
full to the banks ; snow, sleet and hail were threatening, but 
Sempronius led his men, cold and without breakfast, through 
the icy stream and deployed his lines in front of the Cartha- 
ginians, who, with calm deliberation, had eaten their morning 
meal, oiled their bodies and donned their armor around the blaz- 
ing fires, and then marched out to meet the Romans. Near the 
Trebia lay secreted a small body of picked men, mainly cavalry, 
in a depression that had escaped the vigilance of the Romans as 
they advanced in the dim light of early morning. Mago, a 
younger brother of Hannibal, commanded. The Roman light 
troops had early opened with dart and arrow on the opposing 
lines, and been received by the slingers of the Balearic isles; but 
when the massive infantry of the legion swept forward to the 
assault of the outnumbered centre the day looked dark for Car- 
thage, until, with furious rush and shout, the horsemen of Mazo'g 



» ,urn. 



100 CANN.^.. 

ambuscade burst fortli and hewed down the Roman rear. Then 
Hannibal drove his elephants in on the flanks, followed up vig- 
orously with the light infantry and ubiquitous Numidians ; the 
Roman light troops broke and scattered in confusion, rushing 
back towards the Trebia, while the legions in the centre, firtding 
themselves vehemently charged in rear, forced through the lines 
in thv'iir front and marched off with little opposition to Placentia. 
The consular army was cut in two. Those who went eastward 
reaped, but those who ran back toward the Trebia were slaugh- 
iered wiihout mercy. Despite his own losses in action and from 
cold (the last-named cause having robbed him of most of his 
elephants). Hannibal had won a great victory, the battle of the 
Trebia. 

The consular armies of Rome despaired of holding the valley 
of the Po. Scipio fell back with what he had left to Ariminum 
on the Adriatic. Sempronius crossed his army through the 
Apennines into Etruria, and all Cisalpine Gaul was in the hands 
of "the dire African." Thus ended his first campaign in Italy. 

The consuls having failed them, the Roman people chose 
Flaminius and Servilius in their stead. New levies of troops 
were made at once. Scipio went to Spain as pro-consul to take 
charge of matters there ; large reinforcements being sent with 
him, as well as to Sardinia, Sicily, Tarentum and the armies of 
the new consuls in the north. Humiliated and saddened by de- 
feat the great heart of Rome was constant in its faith in ultimate 
success. 

Early in the spring Hannibal astonished the outposts of 
Flaminius by appearing through an unused pass of the Apen- 
nines, and plundering the valley of the Arno. Having devastated 
the Arno country, Hannibal pushed southward, passed by Fla- 
minius without paying him any attention, and went on his leisurely 
way, plundering everywhere, and the cry went up for Flaminius 
to act. 

Spurred into motion, the consul came on after the Carthagin- 
ian, caught him close by Lake Thrasymene, and there, in the 
dense mist and obscurity of a marshy defile and an early morn- 
ing of an Italian spring, Hannibal turned fiercely, savagely, upon 



HEAVY LOSS OF THE ROMANS. 101 

his rash pursuer, and after a terrible onslaught and a resistance 
of brief duration, caught as they were between overhanging 
heights and the shallow waters of the lake, the Romans were 
almost utterly destroyed, and the solemn disaster of Thrasymene 
was added to that of Trebia. Only six thousand of the soldiery 
of Latium escaped. 

Occurring, as this noted battle did, so much nearer home, the 
effect upon the citizens of Rome was far greater than that of 
Trebia ; indeed, it was a far greater catastrophe, not particularly 
because of the death of Flaminius, who fell, sword in hand, since 
his administration of affairs in Etruria had been far from happy, 
but rather because of the heavy losses sustained at so desperate 
a crisis. It is asserted with good reason that the number of men 
lost by the Romans on the day of Thrasj-mene and during the 
vigorous pursuit which followed was fully 30,000, while Hannibal 
had lost but 1,500 all told. 

Freeing the Italian allies of Rome who had fallen into his 
hands, the victor gave his men a few days' needed rest, then 
crossed the Tiber near its source, and marched into Umbria. 
And then venturing no farther towards Rome itself with his 
small force, preferring to lay waste all Italy, all that might be 
tributary to Rome before dealing with the great city itself, he 
turned abruptly eastward, crossed again the Apennines, reached 
the Adriatic near Ancona, and swept down the coast. Now, in- 
deed, were his promises to the soldiery fully realized. It was a 
land of plenty through which they leisurely marched, camping 
in pleasant places, pillaging, plundering, ravaging everywhere. 
The rough linesmen lived on the fat of the land, faring as they 
never did before. But, everywhere he went, rigorous search was 
made, and wherever Romans or Latins were found, capable of 
bearing arms, they were ruthlessly butchered. 

Yet again Rome rallied. The Senate for day after day sat from 
sunrise to sunset, devising measures for the relief of the beloved 
fatherland. No one spoke of peace. No soldier was to be re- 
called from possible victory in Spain, Sicily or Sardinia, but 
sterner measures were resolved on at home, and Fabius Maximus 
was made dictator. Two new legions were raised in the city, and 



102 CANN^. 

a number of the home-guards proper were ordered for other ser- 
vice. Even the navy was recruited from Rome, for now the Car- 
thaginian ships were scouring the Adriatic, and, on the west 
coast, capturing the fleets of supply-vessels sent to Spain and 
Sardinia. 

Ail the ships at Ostia and from the Tiber were ordered forth- 
with to sea, and then with the two new legions and the consular 
army of Servilius (which had fallen back from Ariminum after 
learning of Thrasymene), with powerful horse and numbers of 
allies — in all with a force largely outnumbering Hannibal — the 
dictator marched southeastward through Campania and Sam- 
nium, and crossed the Apennines in search of the African. 

And now for a time the advantage lay with Rome. The Car- 
thaginians were living on the country, compelled to scatter and 
forage. The Romans were enabled to keep together in mass, as 
their supplies were forwarded direct in bulk, and, at the same 
time, they harassed and broke up the detachments of the Afri- 
cans scouring the neighborhood for provisions. Hannibal had 
well-nigh exhausted this tract of Apulia by the time the Roman 
army marched in and camped near him, and finding that the 
Apulians would not join him, he decided to again cross the 
mountains and sweep down into the hitherto undisturbed regions 
of the Caudinian Samnites, old enemies of Rome. But Beneven- 
tun shut her gates against him. Thence he moved up the river 

'.ulturnus, crossing it finally, and came down into the far-famed 

"liernian plain in Campania. 

Tiiis was almost more than even Roman discipline could 
itiind. Fabius the dictator had kept his men on the track of 
Hannibal, but prohibiting a general engagement. He planted 
strong garrisons in all the roads and passes around the plain, 
rightly conjecturing that Hannibal would soon exhaust even the 
wealth of store in that productive region, and then, hemmed in 
as he now was, unable to obtain further supplies to carry him 
through the approaching winter, he would be compelled to sue 
for peace or strive to fight his way through the chosen positions 
of the Romans. 

But Hannibal had no thought either of wintering there or 



HANNIBAL'S 'STRANGE ESCAPE. IQS 

starving elsewhere. He had accumulated great supplies of food 
and wine, several thousand head of beef cattle, and some 5,000 
prisoners in the course of his recent wanderings, and he proposed 
to move back to Apulia and take all his supplies with him, 
despite Roman hindrance. He had nowhere near enough men 
to fight his way through, and guard and transport the provision 
train and prisoners at one and the same time. Hannibal first put 
his 5,000 prisoners to death, and then set about clearing the way 
for a march through the defiles over into the upper valley of the 
Vulturnus. Fabius, with his main army, lay along the lower 
hills between the defiles, with strong outposts in the passes 
themselves. 

Selecting 2,000 of the strongest of his captured cattle, Hanni- 
bal caused a quantity of pine light-wood to be fastened to their 
horns ; notified his army to be ready to move soon as darkness 
set in, and then, despatching his light infantry with the drovers 
and ordering them to scale the heights behind and overlooking 
the passes, he started the cattle for the hills, and, as soon as they 
reached the slopes, caused the tinder-wood on their heads to be 
set on fire. The cattle speedily ran wild and charged up the 
slopes in front, the light infantry followed, and presently the 
range of hills was lighted up by a strange, unearthly glare from 
the darting fires on these hundreds of stampeding cattle. Be- 
wildered, unable to comprehend its meaning, fearful of being led 
out into some trap of the vile African, as Flaminius and his 
thousands had been trapped at Thrasymene, Fabius dare 
not move from camp till morning dawned. Meantime, the 
guards of the passes, convinced that the whole army of Hanni- 
bal was scattering over the hills in attempt to escape, quitted 
their assigned positions and clambered up the heights to head 
them off, and were aghast to find only wild cattle and some few 
skirmishers ; but when they attempted to return to their posts, 
they found these few skirmishers multiplied by hundreds, who 
hemmed them in and prevented their retirement, and Hannibal, 
relying on the success of the trick, hastened forward, seized the 
defiles, passed his heavy infantry, cavalry and baggage and 
plunder safely through, detailed the Spaniards and the Gauls ta 



104 CANN/R 

cover his rear and assist the light troops, and, when daylight ap- 
peared, to the shame and consternation of the Roman dictator, 
it was apparent to all that " the dire African " had again out- 
witted him. It was now impossible to pen him in again, and Han- 
nibal, after visiting and plundering portions of Samnium to the 
north, leisurely, as before, crossed for the fourth time the Ap- 
penines and came down on the eastern slope into the rich Pelig- 
nian plain near Sulmo (not more than ninety miles on a " bee- 
line " east of Rome), and towards the end of the season was 
comfortably settled again near his old quarters in Apulia. 

Seizing the little town of Geronium, he established his maga- 
zines within the walls and camped his army around it. Here, 
with corn, grass and water in abundance, his horses and cattle 
were well provided for, and supplies in plenty were already 
gathered and stored for his men. Without allies he could not 
conquer Rome, but, could he successfully maintain himself on 
Roman territory, allies would be sure to join him sooner or later. 

And now Rome had raised a clamor against its dictator. 
Fabius was slow, over-cautious, timid. The Fabian policy had 
been not to make a move until the right one could be de- 
termined on as sure of success, and then the Fabian execution 
had been the wrong one. That winter, as custom required, both 
dictator and " master of the horse" Minucius resigned, and the 
army was placed again under the consuls — Servilius, who thus 
reappears, and Regulus (M. Atilius), who had been elected vice 
Flaminius killed at Thrasymene. Then came the .spring elec- 
tions, unusually bitter party spirit running at the time, and the 
choice of the people for first consul proved to be a veritable 
butcher-boy, who had been enabled by a fortune left him un- 
.jxpectedly to quit the shambles and go into politics, and Caius 
Terentius Varro, who had risen step by step from small offices, 
as of a ward politician to those of prretor, now by voice of 
Rome became her general-in-chief As his colleague reappears 
/Emilius Paullus, a vehement aristocrat, who but a short time 
before had held office as consul, was accused of peculation, and 
was as detestable to the general public as Varro was popular. 
But Paullus had proved himself a good soldier. 



"THE DIRE AFRICAN." 105 

For a time Servilius and Regulus retained command of the 
" armies of observation " in Apulia, where, watching the move- 
ments of Hannibal like wary mastiffs, but keeping out of reach 
of his claws, they established a large magazine of supplies at the 
little town of Cannse, some sixty or seventy (Roman) miles 
southeast of the camp of Hannibal. 

One bright morning in early summer, as the corn was rapidlj' 
ripening along the lowlands and the Roman army was still doz- 
ing in its winter camp, " the dire African " sprang from his lair, 
leaped over or around the stupefied watchers, and possessed him- 
self of Cannas. There is something absolutely electric about 
this superb dash. No matter where one's sympathies may lie, 
the reader can hardly refuse his admiration of such brilliant, 
daring and successful generalship. His own provisions were 
giving out. It was still cold and raw up there near the moun- 
tains. Down by the sea lay sunny Cannse with all those accu- 
mulations of military stores piled tier on tier ; with all those 
countless acres of corn ready for the harvest — and for him. 
Sudden as the spring of the lion of his forests, the African hero 
drops upon the plain below him, swings round the flank of his 
lazy, unsuspecting watchers, grasps the prey they were supposed 
to guard ; then, with bristling mane and flashing eyes and teeth, 
confronts them as, crouching for another spring, he warns them, 
" Come not here." Rome is checked again. 

And now, speeding with new legions and levies, the consuls 
haste to the front. " Hold him there," are the orders breath- 
lessly despatched to wretched Regulus and his colleague ; " hold, 
but risk no battle ; wait for Varro." And now, in the blithe sum- 
mer weather, under the soft breezes of the Adriatic, two hating, 
hostile armies are drawn up across the plain of Apulia. Those 
grim, wiry, half-savage men in battered armor and time-worn 
garb — those daring, reckless fellows on the keen Spanish and 
Arabian steeds, facing north — are the soldiers of Carthage. 

Those eight brilliant legions, far outnumbering them, glitter- 
ing in all the glory of brazen helmets, breast-plate, greaves and 
shield, their martial plumes of black and scarlet, their golden 
eagles, their blazoned standards flashing in the sun — these, facing 



106 CANN.E. 

southward, are the troops of Rome. Only slightly reinforced 
by accessions from the Gauls, Hannibal, with not more than 
50,000 men, must hold his own against go,000 or die. But 
other odds are in his favor. Throughout his armies — African, 
Spaniard, savage Gaul — all have learned to look up to him as 
invincible ; a leader under whom defeat or disaster would be impos- 
sible. His command is absolute, undivided. On the other hand, 
Rome sends two leaders, men who, like the generals of Athens 
in the days of Miltiades, could only command one day at a 
time. One is Varro, the hero of the lower classes, a political 
figure-head of the masses, a demagogue and a stump-speaker of 
no little shrewdness and ability in his peculiar line, but unfit to 
handle an army in the field. As his colleague he has an ad- 
mirable but most unpopular soldier — an aristocrat throughout, 
and an experienced campaigner. The two were violently an- 
tagonistic from the start — in character, in methods, in plans. 
They were harmonious in only one point, an undoubted and 
unflinching patriot sm. They found the army of Hannibal 
placidly occupied in gathering in the rich harvest of the low 
country along the sea, the main body posted on the left bank 
of the Aufidus, not more than eight or nine miles from the 
Adriatic. All around them the land lay level and open, a capital 
battle-field for armies equally matched. Too good a field for 
Hannibal, said Paullus ; far too good for the superb cavalry of 
Carthage, whose chief, Maharbal, was the most skillful and 
daring cavalry leader in the annals of ancient history; and under 
him were such young generals as Mago, own brother to Han- 
nibal, he who led the furious flank attack and decided the day 
at the Trebia. Well indeed might Paullus preach caution and 
urge a falling back to the foothills, where the African cavalry 
would be far less efficient over broken and hilly ground, but 
Varro was frantic for instant fight and would listen to no such 
counsel. It being his day in command, he marched the army 
rapidly and boldly into a position below Hannibal on the Aufidus, 
interposing between him and the sea, and there he halted and 
faced to the southeast, his left resting on the river, his right ex- 
tending over to the town of Salapia. Paullus was compelled to 



riANNIBAL'S PREPARATIONS. 10^ 

submit, and when, on the following day, he assumed command 
he found it impossible to extricate the army from the trap into 
which Varro had led it. Hannibal had promptly moved down 
stream (the Aufidus here flows northeast, or, to be more ac- 
curate, east of north), and, with his right resting on the river 
bank, took position confronting the army of Rome. A portion 
of the force of PauUus was immediately thrown across the stream 
and encamped on the right bank with the view of checking the 
advance of Hannibal in that direction, should he attempt such 
a move, and of driving back his foraging parties gathering the 
spoils of the corn-fields on the southern plain. 

On the morning of the next day, which strictly was about 
the middle of June, Varro again came into command. He was 
feverishly impatient for battle, and had determined to bring 
matters to an issue at once. To his perplexity, however, he 
saw that Hannibal had made no move to meet him. The Cartha- 
ginians hung to their lines ; busy preparations of some kind were 
going on within the camp, but the day passed by without a re- 
sponsive move on the part of Hannibal. Varro could not induce 
him to come out and meet him, nor did he dare attack him in 
camp itself 

But Hannibal had spent the day in quiet, methodical prepara- 
tions for the coming conflict and in a close study of the opposing 
lines, and with the dawn of the next day (August 2d of the 
Roman calendar) he marched forth upon the plain ready to do 
battle with Rome. And now Rome held back, ^milius Paul- 
lus was chief for the day and could not be dragged into a fight. 
He held that if the armies remained a few days longer as they 
stood the Carthaginians would be compelled to fall back to- 
wards the mountains in search of more corn and supplies. 
Then his project of fighting in the foothills and avoiding con- 
flict with the terrible African cavalry could be carried out. 
Despite the eager, impatient murmurs of many subordinates, and 
the taunts of Varro, ^milius remained unmoved. He would 
not risk the issue on such ground even though he doubly out- 
numbered Hannibal. The latter waited some time, then seeing 
plainly enough that he had a very different man to deal with, 



108 CANN^. 

sent his infantry back into camp and despatched Maharbal with 
a strong force of cavalry to assail the Roman troops on the right 
bank. The Aufidus is shallow in June and easily fordable, and 
the wild Numidian horse swept down on the water parties of 
the Romans, penned them up in their camp, and held the ground 
so that all the rest of the day, all the long, hot night that fol- 
lowed, the unfortunate Romans on the eastern shore thirsted 
for water and could not get a drop. But on the morrow Varro once 
more would draw his sword, and then, come what might, there 
would be an end to this senseless delay. And surely enough 
at dawn the red ensign, the well-known signal for battle, was 
flung to the breeze from the tent of the champion of the de- 
mocracy. 

And now before the opposing armies meet in battle let us 
take a careful look at the ground on which this never-to-be-for- 
gotten scene is to be enacted. By the Roman calendar it was 
the 3d day of August. Actually, however, it was about the 20th 
of June, the sixth month of the modern year. The corn was 
ripe in all the fields along the lowlands, and most of it had been 
gathered in by the foragers of Carthage. The shallow, sluggish 
Aufidus flows placidly along between the level fields, lazily 
winding toward the sea. Far off to the eastward the blue waves 
of the Adriatic sparkle and flash in the early light, and white- 
caps dot the billows under the influence of the strong southerly 
breeze that springs up with the rising sun. Far off" to the west 
the spurs of the Apennines are looking down upon the fertile 
plains below. Here in the near distance, well out to the right 
bank of the stream, are the roofs and walls of Cannae. Four or 
five miles away to the southwest, also east of the Aufidus, is the 
walled town of Canusium, still loyal to Rome; and far away north- 
ward, on the left of the river, the early sun is gilding the battle- 
ments of Salapia. 

There rests the right flank of Rome. Between it and the 
Aufidus the legions are tramping out upon the plains in front and 
forming line under cover of the clouds of light troops who ad- 
vance before them. Over on the right bank the Numidian 
horsemen of Hannibal arc still hovering between the water and 



VARRO IN COMMAND. 109 

the detached camp of the Roman left, and the main army of 
Carthage, lorming with the calm precision of veteran soldiery, 
is moving forward from its tents so as to deploy upon the open 
plain. Varro, the political appointee, with go.ooo valiant men 
at his back, is to try conclusions with the trained soldier Han- 
nibal, who leads but 50,000 all told, and Varro takes the initia- 
tive. Before anything can be done those men of his, thirsting 
over there on the extreme left, must be relieved and their assail- 
ants driven off Detailing a strong force to hold his camp on 
the west bank, Varro orders his army to face to the left, cross 
the Aufidus, drive off the Numidians, supply those suffering 
kinsmen in the beleaguered camp with water, then face to the 
front again and be ready for Hannibal. In some surprise, the 
latter notes the move. To fight he must follow. To cross in- 
volves the placing of his entire army on an open plain, thrusting 
his right well out " in the air," as it is termed, with no defence, 
natural or improvised, on which to rest it, with an outnumbering 
army on his front, a hostile town in and near his rear. It is not 
a safe move, but he looks at his stern, battle-seasoned infantry, 
greatly inferior in numbers to the brilliant legions of Rome; he 
carefully studies his eager cavalry — there at least he can afford 
to be confident, for the world cannot match them, and the plain 
on the right bank is to the full as open, as favorable as on the 
left. East or west, then, it is all the same. Hannibal laughs 
with hope and triumph and thrilling confidence, as he too face.s 
his men eastward, fords the Aufidus in cheery order, marches 
well out on the eastern plain, then halts and confronts the shout- 
ing, spear-brandishing, shield-clanging army of Rome. At last 
in open conflict, in fair field, where neither surprise, nor deep 
defile, nor treacherous morass can aid him, he means to meet, 
and he means to overthrow the surging power of the great rival 
of his country. 

Each army is formed practically on the same general plan. 
Infantry in the centre; cavalry on the flanks; but, in detail, there 
is this important difference : Varro has so formed his legions that 
though far outnumbering the force of Hannibal his line is no 
greater in extent. The right flank of the Carthaginians is far 



no CANN-«. 

out there on the open plain, and with his great superiomy in 
numbers Varro ought by every principle to overlap that ex- 
posed flank, but it does not seem to occur to him. A breach 
has widened between himself and Paullus, and, if the latter sug- 
gests that such a disposition should be made, it is more than 
probable he is impatiently rebuked for officious interference. 
Whether counselled or not, Varro utterly fails to avail himself 
of the advantage thus opened to him. He forms his lines in 
what would now be termed columns of masses; the front of 
each subdivision of the legion is less than its depth. It would 
seem as though he had resolved on a formation akin to that of 
Epaminondas — a deep charging column, and with it an impetu- 
ous assault on the Carthaginian centre, before which every- 
thing must go down. But it ' never seems to have occurred 
to him that, notwithstanding his vastly inferior force, Hannibal 
would take the initiative and himself become the attacking 
general. 

With much pomp and martial clangor the army of Rome had 
dressed its lines. On the extreme right, next the river, were the 
picked cavalry of the army, the knights and gentlemen of the 
city. Few in number, comparatively speaking, they represented 
the best blood of the republic and could be relied upon to fight 
to the death. Immediately on their left were drawn up the 
grand legions, stretching far across the plain, their battalions 
formed with diminished front but extending to a great depth ta 
the rear. In the full panoply of Rome's sturdiest soldiery, they 
presented an appearance well calculated to inspire their dema- 
gogue of a leader with confidence. On their left were extended 
the battalions of light infantry of the allies, and then farthest out 
of all were the cavalry of the Italian provinces, notably of Latium. 
But these last were facing the most accomplished light horse- 
men of the world, the Numidians. Well out in front of the 
entire infantry command were ranged strong lines of skirmishers 
from the velites, and between these and the Balearic siingers of 
Hannibal the battle had already begun. No sooner were the 
men of Carthage well across the stream than the impatient Varro 
ordered out his skirmishers ; the Balearic siingers sprang forth 



^MILIUS PAULLUS WOUNDED. fH 

from the opposing lines, and, under cover of their movements, the 
army of Africa talvcs up its station. 

Far out on the Carthaginian right are the sw^rrcir-g hosts of 
Numidia. They are at least equal in number to the cavalry 
who stand opposed to them, but not so perfect in armor or 
equipment. Their superiority lies in their steeds and their horse- 
manship. Between the Numidians, drawn up under the watchful 
eye of their renowned leader Maharbal, and the cavalry of the 
left wing the infantry forms its lines. An odd disposition it 
seems at first glance. The centre of the foot force is occupied 
by alternating battalions of Spaniards and Gauls, and this centre 
is thrown well forward. The right and left centres are filled by 
the African infantry, armed precisely like that of Rome, and they 
are withdrawn slightly so that the front of Hannibal is convex, 
toward the enemy, and on its extreme left, between the Africans 
and the river, confronting the nobles of Rome, the squadrons 
of Spanish and Gaulish horse are formed under command of 
Hasdrubal. Throughout the entire Carthaginian line there is 
jesting and laughter and easy confidence, for Hannibal has been 
laughingly rallying one of his generals, a " croaker," who shook 
his head dolefully at sight of the overpowering forte of Rome. 

Already the skirmishers have begun. There is something 
terrible in the force and vim and accuracy with which those 
Balearic slingers whirl their missiles in among the velites. The 
latter are at a great disadvantage ; their^ darts are no answer at 
all, and they dare not risk a charge for fear of getting too far 
from their supports. The heavy stones come crashing in from 
the south with frightful force and precision, tumbling them over 
in every direction. To add to the trouble the morning breeze 
has increased to a stiff gale, and is blowing clouds of dust from 
the Carthaginian lines into the faces of the Romans. They are 
stung and blinded with the dust; bruised, hammered, felled to 
earth by shooting stones : stones that penetrate far beyond and 
rattle like ponderous hail upon the armor of the main line. One 
of the first to fall, stunned and severely wounded, is the consul 
/Emilius himself, and, bad augury for Rome, the soldier of the 
two commanders is temporarily borne away from the fight. 
8 



112 CANN^. 

Varro is left to his own devices. Rome cannot long stand this 
long-range fire which she has no means of answering ; but be- 
fore Varro can decide what to do, with terrific rush and impetus, 
Hasdrubal hurls forward the horsemen of Spain and Gaul, and 
in an instant they are crashing in upon the valiant knights of 
Rome. Doubtless the leader of the latter was quick to move 
forward to meet them, to gain impetus equal to their own, else 
he was no cavalryman, for mounted troops must never receive a 
charge at halt. Certain it is that for some time the Roman 
right sturdily holds its own, the knights doing valiant battle. 
But they have no defensive armor; their spears are light and in- 
efficient; even in number they are inferior to Hasdrubal, and 
Varro has no cavalry on that flank with which to reinforce them. 
Little . by little, they are borne back; still fighting bravely, are 
overpowered, and, presently, fairly driven from the field and 
sent whirling down the banks of the Aufidus. The surviving 
knights are fleeing for their lives, and all the serried cavalry of 
Spain is in hot pursuit. The right of the Roman line is swept 
away. 

Meantime, far over to the other flank, the Numidians had en- 
gaged the cavalry of Latium and the provinces, and here stout 
resistance is encountered. Maharbal, having only lightly 
equipped light horsemen, cannot make headway against the 
determined ranks of Italy, and the battle there is by no means 
going in favor of the Carthaginians, when, to the dismay of the 
Romans, a compact and admirably handled force of cavalry is 
seen riding up from their right rear. It is the division of Has- 
drubal returning from victorious pursuit, and about to plunge in 
to the aid of Numidia. These latter horsemen redouble the 
energy of their wild charge as they see the approach of comrade 
cavalry; and, caught between two opposing forces, the Jiorse- 
men of Latium scatter over the plain in headlong flight toward 
the sea. The Roman left is gone. All the cavalry of Varro is 
vanquished. 

But here still is his infantry, alone sufficient to outnumber the 
total horse and foot of Hannibal. Here are the legions, fresh, 
impatient, valorous. He has held them inactive a while, watch- 



THE ROMANS DEMORALIZED. Jjg 

ing, with manifest stupefaction, the discomfiture of his horse- 
men. But now the lines of Hannibal advance. The centre is 
fairly bulging out far to the front. Varro orders the legions 
directly in front of the ranks of Spanish and Gaulish infantry to 
charge squarely forward, while those to the right and left in- 
cline inwards, converging, crushing in the Carthaginian centre. 
With all his might he speeds tliem on, and with mighty shock 
the legions of Rome close in combat with a disciplined but in- 
ferior foe, and, utterly unable to make a stand against such 
immense masses as those charging columns of Varro, the ranks 
of Spain and Gaul, confusedly intermingled, fall slowly back. 
The great wedge of the legions bursts through the Carthaginian 
centre, and presently, in triumphant rush, the plumed helmets 
are hewing their way, a black and scarlet and brazen torrent, 
squarely through the solid ranks and back upon the supports 
and reserves. Rome wins in the centre. 

But, converging as are the legions on these advanced foot- 
men in the centre, they now crowd, jostle and hamper one an- v / 
other; the free fighting space of the soldier is filled up; the 
legions on the flanks of the charge have jammed in those in the 
interior. Men can no longer hurl the pilum or brandish tlie 
sword ; their shields are entangled, they trip over one another, 
and their freedom of movement is utterly gone. Worse than 
that : they have rushed together to pierce the projecting centre 
of Carthage without a thought of the troops on their own flanks, 
and now, though they have forced their victorious way through, 
and well to the rear of the African line, just what happened to 
the Sacse and Persians at Marathon befalls them. They are 
overlapped, right and left, by the African infantry. Their front 
is still struggling with the Spaniards, but their flanks are open, 
and now these sturdy spearmen of Carthage face inwards, and 
down they come. The legions of Rome are hemmed in on 
three sides. 

And now from south, from east and west the barbed lines of 
spearmen close with fresh vigor upon the huddled mass of 
legionaries. Brave, devoted, heroic as are those trained war- 
riors, they have been horribly misled, they are penned like 



114 CANN^. 

dumb driven cattle where only those on the outskirts can battle 
at all. Thousands of stalwart, valiant men are crushed together 
in a struggling mass, unable to extricate themselves, unable to 
fight, unable to fall back and reform for another attack. In all 
the din and uproar, in all the fearful confusion that ensues, the 
orders of officers are unheard or unheeded. The corn-fields of 
Apulia are trodden down and beaten into dust by the dense 
mob of helpless humanity, rapidly being trodden under foot in 
its turn. The legions of Rome are being ground into powder. 
Farther and farther along their heaving flanks lap the lines of 
Carthage. Spanish sword, GauUsh spear drip with blood from 
thousands of ghastly wounds. Only one chance is left. Fall 
back, fall back and form, is the cry. And partly in obedience to 
the summons, partly yielding to the savage pressure on front 
and flank, the crested torrent begins to surge back towards 
Cannae. Already the rearmost men are turning back and giving 
way, but all too late. Exultant, frenzied from their triumphant 
pursuit, back come the squadrons of Hasdrubal, Mago, and the 
wild irregulars of Maharbal. A few seconds suffice to range 
their disciplined ranks ; then, in headlong charge, with deafening 
war-cry, they rush in upon the hitherto unassailed rear of the 
legions, and now, vac victis, Rome is hemmed in on ever}' side. 
All is lost, but honor. 

For hours the dreadful work goes on. It is mere slaughter, 
carnage now. Little by little the great square contracts, the 
lines of Carthage close in, the brazen armor of Rome becomes 
the pavement of the lithe Spaniard or swarthy African. The 
valor, the manhood, the brawn and sinew of Italy is sacrificed to 
the criminal blundering of the idol of the populace, and, true to 
the teachings of his youth, the hero of the pavement and sham- 
bles has butchered the army of his countr^mien. In almost un~ 
paralleled slaughter the eight superb legions of Rome are hewed 
and hacked to death. Consul, pro-consul, quaestor, prsetor 
tribune, senator and brave heroes of the infantry, all are heaped 
among the slain. vEmilius Paullus lies there, victim of the mad 
blunder he strove in vain to avert. Servilius, the gallant pro- 
consul ; Minucius, valiant chief of cavalry, all are down, and 



HANNIBAL'S GREATEST TRIUMPH. 



115 



with them one hundred of the highest officers in the Roman 
nation ; thousands of officers of the hne, tens of thousands of 
the betrayed and butchered soldiery. 

But Varro was not among them. The idol of the masses, the 
self-taught, self-sufficient general managed to slip from the 
meshes of the net, and, leaving his betrayed comrades to their 
fate, to spur in safety from the field, and take refuge behind the 
walls of Venusia. 

And now, with eighty thousand Romans, dead or dying on 
the field ; with two great camps, and all their munitions of war 
open to his pillage ; with a loss of only six thousand of his own 
men, Hannibal is, for the third time, victorious over Rome, and 
the final victory is the most death-dealing of all. It is the 
Carthaginian's greatest triumph. It is Rome's most crushing 
defeat. Any other nation would probably have sued for peace 
on any terms, but the city, Rome itself, still stood upon its seven 
hills ; the indomitable Senate was still there, and despite Canns, 
its fearful slaughter and awful lesson, Rome was still steadfast. 
Nation against nation, Rome was still unconquered. 




DESTRUCTION OF THE ROMAN LEGION. 



ZAMA. 




'AD Hannibal been promptly reinforced aftef 
his great victory at Cannse, there is little 
question as to what would have been the fate 
of Rome. But the Carthaginians were not a 
warlike people. Shrewd merchants, bold 
navigators and traders, they preferred the 
arts of peace to any glory of conquest. They 
could not be brought to realize that so jeal- 
'~ ous and powerful a rival as Rome must be 

crippled once and for all, or she would never rest content with a 
divided rule over the Mediterranean and its islands and sea- 
ports. It was their love for commerce and trade, their natural 
indisposition for war that prompted the Carthaginians to sue for 
peace, after successfully battling with Rome for over twenty 
years, in the first Punic war. It was this same trait that im- 
pelled them now to withhold from Hannibal the men and means 
he needed to crush the Roman capital. It was this very trait 
that now turned the tide of war against them, brought the" Sec- 
ond Punic" to a close with the terrible and decisive battle of 
Zama, and led, in the next century, to their utter annihilation. 
Penny-wise and pound-foolish, Carthage was swept from the 
face of the earth when, had she supported Hannibal in answer 
to his call, she might have ruled the world. 

The great victory of Cannae produced no great enthusiasm at 
home. The people could not see what their leaders saw : that 
Carthage must ruin Rome or Rome would ruin Carthage. 
Hannibal had been away five years. His influence was not felt 
in the home councils. The Peace party had the upper hand. 
(116) 



ACTIVITY OF THE ROMANS. 117 

His brothers, Hasdrubal and Mago, were with him in Italy. 
No fit representative liad been left behind, and as peace reigned 
at home the short-sighted patriots would have it that no neces- 
sity existed for maintaining the army abroad. The golden 
opportunity was frittered away, and before Carthage could real- 
ize it, and despite the appeals and efforts of Hannibal and Mago, 
Rome had sprung from her stupor, rallied from the blow of 
Cannae, Scipio Africanus had " carried the war into Africa," and 
Rome was at her throat. 

Then was fought the battle of Zama. A brief account of in- 
tervening events is necessary to an understanding of the loss of 
the immense advantage gained by Hannibal at Cannae. 

Rome was now practically alone. She had not more than 
one hundred thousand men, and all Italy had deserted her. 
Hannibal ruled supreme in Southern Italy, for Samnium, Cam- 
pania, Lucania and Bruttium could no longer stand by Rome. 
They had to furnish war supplies, and even soldiers for Hanni- 
bal's army, or be sacked for disobedience. Then, too, the Gauls 
sent him large reinforcements, but his favorite arm was the cav- 
alry, and this he could not strengthen abroad. He needed 
horses and horsemen from Spain and Carthage, and Mago was 
sent thither after them. 

But all this took time, and meanwhile Rome was straining 
every nerve ; the valor, the grandeur of Roman character, was 
never shown to better advantage. In Spain, thanks to the army 
sent thither by P. Cornelius Scipio, she had been steadily gain- 
ing ground. In Italy Hannibal had been compelled to divide 
, his force into three armies. He could only be with one at a 
time, and Rome again sent out her legions under Fabius, Grac- 
chus and Marcellus, avoiding battle where they had to meet the 
cavalry but striking incessantly elsewhere, at the communica- 
tions and supply depots of the invaders. Hannibal failed in his 
attack on Tarentum. Gracchus fought and defeated Hanno ar. 
Beneventum, well-nigh destroying his army of 17,000 men. 
And though Hannibal subsequently won Tarentum by surprise, 
and Hanno partially retrieved his losses, enough had been done 
by Rome to revive hope and confidence. 



nS ZAMA. 

Mago returned from Carthage, with some few cavalry and 
more elephants, at last, and Hannibal again took the field. The 
brave Roman general, Gracchus, was trapped in ambuscade and 
killed in Lucania, and Hannibal won two more bloody and des- 
perate battles in Lucania and Apulia over the forces of Cente- 
nius and Fulvius Flaccus. The Roman consuls kept up vigor- 
ous siege of Capua, however, and Hannibal remained in the extreme 
south of Italy, well away from Rome, still waiting for reinforce- 
ments. In the following year, it is true, he made a rapid march 
against the capital, but found the garrison ready and determined 
and an assault hopeless. Then Rome took Capua and merci- 
lessly murdered such of its senators as had not poisoned them- 
selves, and though unable to cope with Hannibal in the field, 
her garrisons were indomitable. But then came bad news from 
Spain. Hasdrubal had been sent thither; had successfully 
fought the Roman legions of the Scipios. Both Scipios were 
killed, and Hasdrubal, with a large army, was coming to the 
support of his brother, Hannibal. 

In the year 208 B. C, eight years after Cannae, Hannibal was 
still master of Southern Italy, but simply holding his own. A 
new, a young Scipio was at the head of the reorganized Roman 
army in Spain, and among the praetors of the year appears for 
the first time a name that will live forever in history borne by 
an ancestor of him who made it famous one hundred and fifty 
years later — the name of Julius Caesar. 

It was evident to all that, with the summer of the following 
year, Rome would be attacked from all sides by the converging 
armies of the sons of the Thunderbolt, as Hamilcar had been 
named, and the Romans sought among themselves for leaders 
to meet and drive back that of Hasdrubal. Caius Claudius 
Nero and Marcus Livius were chosen consuls of Rome. The 
former was sent to hold Hannibal in check, while to Livius was 
confided the battle with the column from Spain. Then fortune 
favored Rome. Nero intercepted letters from Hasdrubal to 
Hannibal which betrayed to him the whole plan of the cam- 
paign. With admirable energy he took a strong detachment 
from his army, marched rapidly north, joined Livius, and to- 



"SCIPIO AFRICANUS." 119 

gether they attacked and terribly defeated the northern army of 
Carthage, kilhng Hasdrubal and winning for Rome the decisive 
victory of the campaign. Less than a week later the ghastly 
head of Hasdrubal was flung at his brother's feet, and Hannibal 
groaned aloud. It was the death-blow to Carthage. 

Meantime young Publius Scipio, son of him who had been 
killed in action there, was carrying all before him in Spain. As 
a mere boy he had fought at Cannae, and when only twenty- 
seven years of age was elected pro-consul for the Spanish war. 
His first exploit was the capture of New Carthage ; then the 
news of the great victory of Nero and Livius at the Metaurus 
spurred him into further effort ; he boldly attacked and defeated 
a large Carthaginian army at Elinga or Silpia, drove the Afri- 
cans out of the country, returned in triumph to Rome, and was 
immediately elected consul. 

After events crowded thick and fast. Rome was elated. Car- 
thage depressed and alarmed. Scipio carried the war into Africa. 
He landed near Carthage, laid siege to Utica, and, during the 
winter that followed, by dint of a well-planned surprise and 
night attack, burned and destroyed the camp of the Numidian 
and Carthaginian army, then commanded by Hasdrubal, a cou- 
sin of Hannibal's, utterly dispersing or killing 60,000 Numidi- 
ans and 30,000 Carthaginians. This terrible blow was speedily 
followed by another, and then, in desperation, Hannibal and 
Mago were recalled. Italy was freed from the presence of the 
invaders, and Carthage humbly sued for peace on the victor's 
own terms. These were hard enough. Carthage pledged herself 
to abandon Italy and Gaul ; to cede Spain and all the islands be- 
tween Italy and Africa ; to give up all war ships but twenty, and 
to pay an immense sum of money. This was early in 202 B. C. 

As we have no Carthaginian historian the Roman account 
has to be accepted for all that followed. All the blame is 
thrown on Carthage, and " Punica Fides " became a sneering by- 
word to all posterity. Rome alleged that within a few months, 
emboldened by the return of Hannibal, Carthage brcke the 
terms of the treat>- and, in violation of the law of nations, strove 
to seize some Roman officers sent to inquire into an illegal 



120 ZAMA. 

detention of Roman vessels in the harbor of Carthage. At all 
events the war broke out again. Hannibal had landed at Lep- 
tis and gone into camp at Zama, five days' journey southwest of 
Carthage, and there Scipio hastened to meet him. The armies 
confronted each other on a broad, open plain. Of the exact 
numbers of each there is no authentic account, but the belief of 
historians appears to be that they were equally matched, except 
that Hannibal had with him eighty trained war-elephants, and 
this fact gave him a decided advantage. On the other hand, he 
was deficient in the very arm on which he had hitherto been so 
accustomed to rely — his light cavalry. Only 2,000 Numidian 
horsemen remained to him of the great numbers he formerl)- 
controlled, and, to his great annoyance, he found them con- 
fronted by 4,000 of their own countrymen under Massinissa, one 
of their own chieftains who, for a long time, had been an active 
ally of Carthage, but who had become a convert to Scipio's 
wonderful influence while in Spain. He was now passionately 
devoted to the cause of Rome, and only a day or two before the 
battle of Zama had rejoined his great leader, whom he had pre- 
viously served so well at the destruction of the Carthaginian 
camp and in the battle which followed a month later. Besides 
his 4,000 light horsemen Massinissa brought 6,000 veteran 
infantry. 

Scipio Africanus was a soldier of the very first order. He 
had fought and beaten the armies of Carthage again and again, 
but only once had he encountered them when fighting under 
the great Hannibal ; that was at Cannae ; and he well knew that 
now there was need of all his energies. Those war-elephants 
were a source of some perplexity. Their charge and rush upon 
the ranks of the legions had always been attended with disaster 
or, at least, confusion, and he determined on a plan to neutralize 
their power. 

Ordinarily the legions were drawn up in what might be 
termed loose order, though moving with all the precision of 
machinery. Each man occupied about three feet " fighting 
space " — three feet to his right and left hand neighbor, three 
feet to the rank in rear ; and these rear ranks covered the inter- 



DISPOSITIONS FOR BATTLE. ' 121 

val between the men in front. Scipio resolved on another sys- 
tem for the battle about to be fought. The men, instead of 
standing in this "quincunx" order, "covered" one another 
accurately. Then the files were closed in towards one another, 
leaving, at regular intervals along the front, lanes or avenues 
from front to rear through the legions, each lane wide enough 
for an elephant to rush through unimpeded. These lanes were 
then loosely filled with light, unarmored troops, who were in- 
structed to break away before the rush of the animals, and so 
entice them in through the lanes, so on out to the rear of the 
legions, where they could be easily surrounded and lanced to 
death, or, at least, put out of the way of further usefulness for 
the time being. By posting a few legionaries at the head of 
each of these avenues, so that the front of the line might look 
uniform, these traps were entirely concealed from the Cartha- 
ginians, who placed great reliance on the powers of their ele- 
phants, and who confidently expected to throw the beautiful 
array of the glittering legions into the wildest confusion. 

His footmen being thus disposed, Scipio posted his cavalry on 
the flanks; Massinissa, with the Numidians, on the right; Lae- 
lius, with the Italians, on the left; and serenely awaited the 
result. 

And now Hannibal moved forward with his army. All had 
gone wrong with Carthage of late, and he was to make one 
supreme effort to right her. His veteran soldiers followed hrm 
with little hope, but absolutely without fear. They were sublime 
in their confidence in the leader who had never yet made a blun- 
der — never yet met a victor. 

First came the eighty elephants, dispersed at regular intervals, 
covering his entire front. Behind them marched the first line 
of his infantry, twelve thousand strong, made up entirely of the 
foreign troops in the service of Carthage — Moors, Gauls, Ligu- 
rians and Balearic islanders. Behind them, and probably a hun- 
dred yards or so separated from them, marched a second line, 
composed of African subjects of Carthage and of Carthaginians 
themselves. And still further in rear came the fourth line — the 
veterans of Italy, the flower of the African army, the soldiers 



122 ZAMA. 

who had marched, fought and bled with him all over southern 
Europe. On them he looked with reliance that nothing could 
shake, and with them Hannibal himself took his station. The 
two thousand Numidian cavalry marched on his left front, so as 
to be opposed by their own brethren under Massinissa; while 
the few Carthaginian horsemen still left to him were posted on 
his right. 

The battle opened by a wild scurry and dash of the Numid- 
ians on both sides. Very probably nothing was expected to 
come of it, for almost immediately Hannibal gave the signal to 
let loose the elephants, and then all eyes were strained to see 
the result of their lumbering but tremendous charge. On they 
come — huge, rolling, unwieldy monsters in headlong dash across 
the sandy plain — but not a sign comes from the army of Rome. 
The legions stand like burnished statues; the hot sun of Africa 
blazes on their brazen shields and crested helmets; the solid 
earth trembles beneath the thunder and tramp of the excited 
brutes now so near. Suddenly, with discordant blast, from right 
to left every trumpet in the Roman lines bursts into wild alarum 
— a frightful, ear-splitting sound: never have the elephants heard 
anything to equal it, and they are scared out of all possibility 
of use. Some, panic-stricken, tear off to the right and left 
around the flanks; others turn and rush back; others still, 
urged on by their maddened drivers, dash onward at the legions, 
and eagerly availing themselves of the friendly lanes so suddenly 
opened before them, pitch headlong in and are decoyed far to 
the rear; few do any damage whatever. Hannibal's most 
dreaded chargers have been tricked into failure. Rome has 
outwitted Carthage. In their panic several elephants on each 
flank have dashed back among the cavalry of Carthage, throwing 
them into disorder. Quick as a flash Lselius and Massinissa 
note it, and away they go with their squadrons to complete the 
rout. Quicker than the work of Hasdrubal and Mago in Italy, 
the cavalry of Carthage is swept away in hopeless flight. 

And then the lines of footmen crashed together. But the 
legions had now resumed their old formation. The foreign mer- 
cenaries of Carthage could not stand before them. They broke, 



A RUINED ARMY AND A RUINED CAUSE. Igll 

reeled back on the second line, and hacked and hewed their 
way through their own supports, the legions close behind. 
Attacked thus by friend and foe, the Carthaginians could not 
long hold their ground. Thousands fell in the vain attempt, 
and at last the whole army recoiled upon Hannibal with his vet- 
eran reserve. Scipio restrained his victorious men a few moments 
to extricate them from the swarms of dead and dying and pris- 
oners — then hurled them forward on the spears of the veterans. 
Then indeed the battle became hot. On both sides courage and 
discipline were well-nigh perfect. The men fought under the 
eyes of the two finest chieftains of their century. Neither side 
would yield an inch, and had the legions of Scipio and the vete- 
rans of Hannibal been left to fight it out, there is no telling how 
it would have ended. For over an hour, hand to hand, steel to 
steel, the savage work went on; but at last the cavalry of Lselius 
and Massinissa came back from pursuit, and with exultant shouts 
charged home on the rear of the Carthaginian reserves. Then 
almost to a man the veterans of Italy died in their tracks. Sur- 
rounded, cut off from all chance of escape on the level plain, they 
could only court a soldier's death. The sun went down on 
a ruined army and a ruined cause. Zama was the last hope of 
Hannibal. 

Twenty thousand soldiers of Carthage were there slain; twenty 
thousand more were taken prisoners. Hannibal himself cut his 
way through when his presence could no longer result in benefit, 
and made his way to Carthage, where his services would be 
needed more than ever. 

This splendid victory of Scipio's resulted in the utter subjec- 
tion of Carthage. She acceded to the harsh terms of her con- 
querors sadly but helplessly, even giving one hundred of her 
youth as hostages for future observation of her treaties. She 
retained only ten war-ships, surrendered all prisoners, deserters, 
even her elephants, and agreed to engage in no war even in 
Africa without Roman consent, besides paying an immense fine. 
As for Rome, as the result of Zama and the end of the second 
Punic war, she now became the ruler of Italy, Sicily, Corsica, 
Sardinia, most of Spain and virtually of Northern Africa and the 



124 ZAMA. 

Mediterranean. Hannibal was driven from his native country', 
and wandered about from kingdom to kingdom striving to find 
a command in any service that might be at war with hated 
Rome, finally dying at the age of sixty-four at the court of 
Prusias, in Bithynia — probably by suicide to avoid falling into 
the hands of the Romans. 

Broken as she was, Carthage still retained her superb ,city and 
harbor, with her seven hundred thousand inhabitants, and, in 
her jealousy, Rome oppressed and humbled her until at last 
again she was goaded into resentment. One hundred and fifty 
years before Christ, in misery and desperation, the Carthaginians 
took up arms for the third Punic war. It was brief enough. 
In four years their proud city was razed to the ground — not one 
stone was left upon another. Their territory became a Roman 
province, and they themselves — those who were wretched enough 
to survive — wanderers upon the face of the earth. Carthage 
was no more. 




CHARGE OF HANNIBAL S ELEPHANTS. 



CYNOSCEPHALiE. 




197 B. C. 

NDER Philip of Macedon, pupil of Epamin- 
ondas and father of Alexander the Great, 
Macedon rose to power and prominence, and 
the Macedonian phalanx became the most 
perfect military machine of the old days. 
Under another Philip of Macedon, 150 years 
afterwards, both phalanx and monarchy 
went to pieces before the legions of Rome. 
Three times did Macedon become in- 
volved with the great nation that rose to the west. The first 
war was indecisive and of no lasting importance. The second 
was the outgrowth of the first, and in a measure brought about 
by the active sympathy shown by King Philip to Hannibal 
during the second Punic war. No sooner was Zama won and 
Rome at liberty to turn from Carthage and settle her quarrel 
with Philip than, in 200 B. C, the Senate declared war against 
Macedon. Six new legions were formed, and with two of these 
the consul Galba landed at Apollonia, on the shore of Illyria. 
As part of the spoil of Carthage he had with him also several 
war-elephants and 1,000 Numidian cavalry. 

Up to this time the Macedonian phalanx had been invincible. 
Its arms and formation have been described under the head of 
Arbela, but now it was destined to meet its conqueror in the 
superb legion of Rome, and, though it must be remembered 
that for over a century the Macedonians and Greeks generally 
had been steadily falling off from the high standard of disci- 
pline and physical powers for which they had been renowned 

(125) 



126 CYNOSCEPHAL^. 

under Lycurgus, Epaminondas and Alexander, and that the 
Romans had as steadily been arriving at an almost perfect de- 
velopment of military strength and prowess, it is impossible to 
understand how the hitherto impenetrable phalanx was ruined, 
as it was in the second and third Macedonian wars, without a 
description of the legion itself. At Cynoscephalae and Pydna tlie 
legion laid the phalanx at its feet, and it is here, therefore, that 
its description seems most appropriate. 

The Roman soldier of the Csesars was the result of nine cen- 
turies of experiment in actual war. At the end of the second 
Punic, 200 years before Christ, he had not yet reached the de- 
gree of perfection attained two centuries later, and the legion 
itself differed materially from that which maintained the standard 
of the emperors. But even before the days of Cannae and Zama 
military education had become compulsory throughout the Ro- 
man provinces, and military duty was exacted of all able-bodied 
citizens when the need of the republic so demanded. 

The consular legion of 200 B. C. comprised 4,500 men, divided 
as follows: 1,200 hasiati, the newest and least experienced of the 
legionary troops; 1,200 principcs, well-trained soldiers; 1,200 
velites, light troops or skirmishers; 600 triarii, veterans in re- 
serve ; 300 cqnites, knights and gentlemen of families of rank, 
acting as cavalry. The legion when formed in order of battle 
or for martial exercise was drawn up in three lines ; the hastati 
and priiicipcs being divided into ten maniples or companies of 
120 men each; while the veteran triarii, who formed the third 
line, had only sixty to the company. Each maniple was com- 
manded by a centurion, or captain, and for other officers had a 
second centurion, or lieutenant, and two sergeants, with a dc- 
canus, or corporal, to every ten men. Each of the three lines 
was commanded by its senior captain ; no such offices as our 
modern colonelcies, majorities, etc., being adopted, and the senior 
centurion of the triarii commanded the whole legion when its 
general was absent. He was called the primipiltis. The staff 
of the legion consisted of six tribunes, who attended to all the 
details of feeding, clothing and paying the men, and who com- 
manded the legion two months at a time in turn, until, during 



COMPARISON OF THE FORCES. 127 

the civil wars, a legatas, or lieutenant-general, corresponding to 
our modern brigadier, was assigned to the command. 

The cavalry of the consular legion was divided into ten turma, 
or troops of thirty horsemen each, and as these little troops 
were composed of youths of noble families whose services in war 
were to be the stepping-stones to prominence in public life, their 
officers were greater in number than those of the foot soldiery, 
there being three deciirions to each turma, the senior com- 
manding. 

The velites were divided equally among the maniples of the 
lines of battle, each company having a certain number of these 
active and light-armed troops to protect its front and flanks from 
sudden attack. 

Now while in point of numbers the consular legion differed 
from that of the empire, and while some alterations were made 
in the order of battle, the armament and the individual instruc- 
tion of the soldier remained practically the same. The footmen 
of the line of the legion were equipped alike with two barbed, 
iron-headed javelins, one of them, the pibmi, being six feet in 
length, terminated by a massive eighteen-inch point, and this 
terrible weapon the soldier was constantly exercised in hurling 
with a sure, steady hand and muscular arm. The other, a lighter 
spear, was generally retained as defence against cavalry. Be- 
sides his spears the soldier carried on the nght hip a short, heavy, 
two-edged cut-and-thrust sword, a Spanish invention that Rome 
had adopted before the days of Hannibal's invasion. He was 
taught to hurl the pilum when about ten or twelve paces from 
the enemy, then to draw his short sword and rush in for close 
combat; and here the Roman soldier was a foe to be dreaded. 
His defensive armor was a massive helmet of brass, surmounted 
by tall plumes of red and black ; a breast-plate or coat of mail ; 
greaves, or metal-bound boots, worn at first only on the right leg 
but afterwards on both ; while on his left arm he carried a pon- 
derous, oblong shield, four feet long, two and a half wide, made 
on wooden frame, covered with bull's-hide, but banded and 
plated with brass, the whole being semi-cylindrical in shape. 

Drawn up in order of battle the legion was a superb sight. 
9 



/28 CYNOSCEPHAL^. 

Its armor glistened in the sunlight and its plumes waved and 
nodded in the breeze. The men by incessant exercise were de- 
veloped to great physical strength, and handled their massive 
weapons with the utmost ease. Modern soldiers could not begin 
to stagger along under the weight with which the Roman foot- 
man cheerily trudged his twenty miles in six marching hours: 
for, besides his shield and arms, the Roman carried about him 
his food, his cooking kit, portions of his tent, or hut, and his 
intrenching tools ; and the instant the legion was halted or called 
to prepare for action these " iinpcdiinciita" were thrown aside 
and the soldier stepped forth fresh and vigorous, ready for 
battle. 

Constant practice, constant discipline and exercise was the 
secret of the grand series of successes that soon attended the 
Roman arms ; and one notable thing to be remembered is that 
the arms, with which their daily instruction was conducted, were 
just twice the weight of those with which they rushed into bat- 
tle. His fighting tools felt like playthings in the grasp of the 
stalwart Roman, and, as all these points had beep, neglected 
mo/e and more among the nations to the east, it is easy to begin 
to see how those terrible short swords were soon to hew their 
way over the Hellespont and into the heart of Asia. 

But now comes the point in which, most radically of all, the 
legion differed from the phalanx. The latter, we have seen, was 
one compact mass ; th^ syntagma being sixteen front, sixteen 
deep, armed with the long, unwieldy " 24-foot" sarissa, and cov- 
ered by locked shields. A terrific force when charging down 
hill or on level ground ; a terrible foe to meet spear to spear ; 
but clumsy, helpless if attacked in flank or rear, and easily 
broken on rough ground. The formation of the legion was 
science and strength combined. It was far more soldierly. 

Each man had three feet " fighting space" to begin with, three 
feet from shoulder to shoulder in the ranks, three feet from 
breast to back in the files. It was an open order. More than 
that : instead of " covering " each other in file, the men of the 
even numbered ranks stood opposite the intervals between the 
men of the odd numbered, in what is called quincunx order, 



THE ROMAN LEGION. 129 

By two short steps to the front the even numbered rank could 
come into line with the odd, forming four solid ranks (for the 
legion was generally drawn up eight deep). By a side step to 
the right the even numbered ranks could place themselves in 
rear of the men of the odd ranks, forming the maniple in closed 
files with three feet interval between them. A great advantage, 
for a wearied or exhausted line of hastati or principes, without 
falling back one step, could instantly be replaced by a fresh line 
from the rear which, rushing up through the open spaces, could 
hurl its pila in the faces of the pressing foe, draw its swords, and 
then, as the wearied line fell back, the new men sprang into 
their places with the quickness of thought, and the panting foe- 
men were confronted by a regiment of perfectly fresh antagonists. 

The legion could face to the right, left or rear, was ready to 
fight at any instant, in any direction. The phalanx was led- 
like in its weight, the legion steel-like in elasticity, and could it 
once hew its way in through the hedge of Macedonian pikes, or 
entrap the solid mass of Macedonia's hoplites into boggy or 
broken ground, there was no question as to which formation 
would be the more effective. 

Remembering now that with the Romans all was discipline, 
skill and enthusiastic faith in their physical prowess ; that with 
the Macedonians there had been no such soldiers as Alexander 
for more than a century, and all martial exercises had been 
neglected ; the reader who has seen the phalanx sweep resist- 
lessly through an hundred times its weight in foemen, will be 
prepared for what follows : its utter demolition at Cynoscephalse. 

The present Philip of Macedon was a good soldier, a man of 
much energy and intelligence, but of no principle. He had 
made many enemies in Greece, and his kingdom was very gen- 
erally assailed when the Romans, under Galba, landed at Apol- 
lonia. Hastening to meet them, he moved with an army of 
about equal size into Western Macedonia, a wild and unsettled 
region. He was somewhat confounded by this sudden move of 
Rome, and would gladly have made peace could he have done 
so without dishonor. 

Rome's pretence for the war was that in a recent invasion of 



130 CYNOSCEPHAL.^E. 

Attica, King Philip had made " an attack on a state in alhance 
with Rome," but jealousy and fear of Macedonian conquest in 
Asia and her power over the Greeks generally, was the real 
cause. 

It was late in the year 200 B. C. that the Romans landed. 
In the following spring some indecisive encounters took place, 
and yet nothing of importance occurred until the ^tolians, 
Dardani and Illyrians joined in the uprising against Macedon, a 
Roman fleet appeared off the eastern coast, and Philip had to 
fall back pursued by Galba. A battle was fought in a wooded 
mountain pass, and the Macedonian spears proved clumsy and 
useless in such a position, and Philip had to retreat still farther. 
But Galba was timid and went back to the coast, and as between 
Rome and Macedon nothing further happened until the summer 
of 198 B. C, when the new consul, Titus Quinctius Flaminius, 
came over, heavily reinforced the legions already in Illyria, and 
started a new campaign. Like Rome's most successful generals, 
Flaminius was a young man, only thirty, skillful as a soldier and 
successful as a diplomatist. Philip met him in conference and 
proposed terms of peace, but the Roman demands were too ex- 
acting, and they parted to settle the differences in battle. 
Treachery of some Epirots enabled Flaminius to win the first 
advantage and drive Philip from his camp. Then the Achaeans 
allied themselves with the Romans, and the affairs of Macedon 
became desperate. Philip fell back, and during the winter en- 
deavored once more to make peace. Two months armistice 
was agreed upon while erivoys were sent to Rome. They came 
back disappointed. Nothing would satisfy the Senate but the 
total surrender by Macedon of all her foreign possessions, and 
Philip would not listen to such a proposition. 

Then began the spring campaign of 197 B. C. Flaminius had 
managed to possess himself of Thebes in Boeotia, and by this 
means to break off communication between the Macedonians to 
the north and their garrison at Corinth. From this point he 
marched northward into Thessaly, intending to assault Philip, 
whom he expected to find guarding the pass of Tempe. 

But Philip had gained confidence, his wrath against Rome was 



PHILIP HOPEFUL AND CONFIDENT. 131 

now very great, and in his eagerness for battle he determined 
not to await the coming of Flaminius, but to march southward 
to meet him, and so it happened that one gloomy, rainy day the 
Roman vanguard suddenly and unexpectedly ran into the ad- 
vance of Macedonia. 

North of the little town of Scotussa in Pelasgiotis, a district 
of Eastern Thessaly that was comparatively level, there rises 
from the flat plateau of the Karadagh a rather high and abruptly 
sloping hill then called Cynoscephalse — Dogs-head. Some dis- 
tance south of this landmark the Roman camp had been estab- 
lished the night before, and though in total ignorance of the 
nearness of any enemy, the invariable practice of the Romans 
had been carried out, and even when only halting for the night 
the camp was carefully intrenched. Here Flaminius had a force 
of 26,000 men, all told, mainly Roman legionaries, though sev- 
eral thousand allies, ^tolians, Apolloniates and Cretans had 
joined him on the march. His great superiority lay in cavalry, 
for therein he had the best blood in Rome : young soldiers full 
of intelligence, zeal and ambition, and some of these troopers it 
was who, early on this memorable day, rode suddenly over the 
crest before them and found themselves in the midst of the 
Macedonian light troops. 

Philip's army was about equal in numbers, but only 16,000 were 
phalangites ; the remainder being made up of vassals, conscripts 
and irregulars. Even old men and young boys, too, had been 
drafted in to fill the squares of his hopliUs, for Macedonia was 
strained to the utmost. The cavalry of Macedon, once the fa- 
vorite arm of the great Alexander, had fallen off greatly, both in 
numbers and efficiency, from their old standard, and were now 
not to be compared with the Roman knights on their fleet and 
sturdy Spanish horses. But Philip was hopeful and confident. 
Flaminius was a long way from his base of supplies, and, were 
they to meet in Thessaly, where the ground was so favorable for 
his phalanx, the chances were, he thought, heavily in his favor. 
He, too, had en'camped for the night not far from Cynoscephalae, 
but facing south, and it is hard to say whether he knew of the 
proximity of the Romans or not. At all events there is nothing 



J 32 CYNOSCEPIIAL^. 

to indicate preparations to receive them on that ground, and per- 
haps one side was no more astonished than the other when the 
advanced guards stumbled upon one another at the crest. 

From the camp Flaminius could see scurry and commotion 
along the distant slopes, and instantly divined that his light 
horsemen had met the enemy. Next, as his horsemen and the 
skirmishers, well out to the front, came hurrying in, he realized 
that the enemy must be in force ; and, while the ranks of the 
stately legions were quickly forming, he ordered the .^tolian 
cavalry and the velites out to the front to support the Roman 
knights. Charging impetuously they in turn outnumbered the 
Macedonian advanced guard, drove them up the slope, over the 
ridge and then, rashly pursuing, went thundering down the 
northern side and ran squarely into the whole Macedonian army, 
now rapidly advancing in line of battle. All the northern cav- 
alry, all the irregulars, archers and dartmen swarmed in upon 
the Romans, whose own velites had been unable to keep up with 
them ; and, with very great loss in killed, they were forced to 
turn and spur back again, closely pursued and well-nigh sur- 
rounded by the enemy's horsemen. This time there seemed to 
be no hope of reforming. In the ardor of their pursuit the 
knights of the Roman horse had utterly broken their ranks, the 
ttirmcs were confusedly mixed, officers scattered here and there, 
some with no officers at all ; they had simply raced the Macedo- 
nian vanguard back over the hill towards the north, had left the 
thousand horsemen of .^tolia far behind them, and were practi- 
cally alone when they found themselves halted by running into 
the line of battle. This last was a fortunate accident, for, having 
kept their ranks, the .(Etolians were ready once more to come to 
the rescue, and by a well-timed charge succeeded in checking 
the Macedonian horse and giving the tiinnce time to rally and 
once again straighten out their lines. 

But all this was mere preliminary to what was to come. Both 
generals had been compelled to hurry their armies into ranks 
and to move forward in support of their advance. Roman disci- 
pline and steadiness had enabled Flaminius, in a few minutes, to 
deploy his beautiful legions, and, with steady step and fronts 



ROME AT A DISADVANTAGE. I33 

perfectly aligned, to move them forward along the plateau. The 
importance of seizing and holding that intervening height seems 
to have flashed upon him and upon King Philip at the same 
instant. - Rome had farther to go, and the front of the line was 
still encumbered by the fighting groups of horsemen. On tlie 
other hand, the instant the soldiers of the phalanx had seen the 
Roman knights and horsemen turn and spur back up the slope, 
followed by the whole force of Macedon's cavalry, they de- 
manded to be led at once against the enemy, and impetuously 
started forward. Philip, with the right wing, could not resist 
the impulse ; and so, calling to the left wing to follow speedily as 
it could form, and leaving it to the charge of Nicanor, he pushed 
up the slope, reaching the crest and forming in order of battle 
just as his cavalry and light troops came tearing back, before 
the advance of the legions of Rome. 

Through eddying mist and plashing rain he could see their 
long brazen ranks just breasting the slopes. Looking back he 
could see that the left wing of the great phalanx was now 
moving up to his support. Eager to close at once, realizing the 
vast advantage mass and velocity would give him could he 
charge at once down-hill upon the perfect order of the Roman 
lines, he could wait no longer. " Forward " was the order ; 
down crashed the long sarissa to the charge, and with confident, 
exulting hearts, the men of the Macedonian right were launched 
in upon the lines of Rome. Sixteen deep, mail-clad, massive — 
what could withstand them ? In vain, as they came within 
range, the pila were hurled upon them, and the ready short- 
swords leaped into air. In vain Roman valor strove to check 
that terrible advance. Just as at Leuctra, thundering down that 
smooth, graded slope, the phalanx was like one vast engine of 
war sweeping all before it. Rome's javelins, swords and brawny 
arms were all impotent against it. The Roman left was over- 
turned and brushed out of its path, and crashing through the 
lines of the hastati and principes the spears of the phalanx were 
buried deep in the disordered swarms of legionaries now flock- 
ing about the flanks. Trampled under foot as were some few 
of the Romans, their light and elastic formation enabled them to 



134 CYNOSCEPHAL^. 

bend before the shock. The limb of the stout oak is torn off by 
the tempest, while the slender willow bows and bends before, yet 
triumphs over the blast. An opposing phalanx unable to give 
way would have suffered terrible loss. Rome's nimble legions, 
seeing the impossibility of stopping this iron avalanche, jumped 
to one side and let it through — then fastened on its flank and 
rear. The Roman left was broken, not beaten. 

Meantime Nicanor, with the left wing of the phalanx in very 
loose array, had hurried up to the crest, arriving just as King 
Philip dashed forward in charge with the right. He was not 
ready to attack. The syntagmata were not completely formed, 
but believing it to be his duty to lose no time in supporting his 
king's assault, he never stopped to take breath or straighten out 
his lines, but impulsively kept on. It was a fatal error. 

In front of King Philip the slope was smooth and regular. In 
front of Nicanor it was broken and cut up by ravines. In front 
of Philip was the unsupported line of the Roman legion. In 
front of Nicanor, in the Roman right wing, there came a dozen 
huge war-elephants. It was too late now. As best they could, 
the spearmen of the Macedonian left were struggling through the 
broken ground in their dash down the hillside, but the order of 
the phalanx was broken, and all of a sudden, long before they 
could close with the Romans, the elephants came thundering 
among them, scattering spearmen in every direction, spreading 
confusion everywhere ; in helpless wonderment they were left to 
deal with these novel enemies against whom their unwieldy 
spears were of such little account, and then before anything 
could be devised to rid them of their torment, with fierce shout 
and blare of trumpet, with the terrible javelins of the Romans 
hurtling through the air upon their now unguarded bodies, they 
were set upon by the stalwart infantry of the legions. The 
Roman right wing was upon them. 

Even while this disaster had befallen the Macedonian left wing, 
the legions of the Roman left had reformed and closed in upon 
the flanks and rear of the phalanx under Philip. Once started 
it had proved hard to stop, had burst through towards the 
Roman camp, and was now hopelessly separated from its com 



MACEDONIA PROSTRATE. 135 

panion under Nicanor. With nothing to rely on but the now 
useless sarissa the Macedonian right found \tself suddenly- 
assailed on both flanks and rear by the vigorous swordsmen of 
Italy. Consternation seized them. Already terrible slaughter 
was going on, for the Romans were hewing their way in almost 
unopposed. They had only to thrust vigorously with that 
deadly sword, and down would go the opponent in a torrent 
of his own blood. In dismay and terror the Macedonians of 
both wings now raised their spears, their signal for surrender, 
but the Romans had never seen it before, knew not its meaning, 
and the ghastly butchery went on. The two phalanxes were 
utterly destroyed, and while the Roman loss had been compara- 
tively slight, over ten thousand Macedonians lay weltering in 
their blood. The legion had triumphed over the invincible 
phalanx, and Macedon was prostrate at the feet of Rome. 

Flaminius proved a generous victor. His .(4Ltolian allies 
demanded the annihilation of Macedon, but they had disgusted 
him by their boastings after the battle and by styling themselves 
the "victors of Cynoscephalfe," and he rebuked them for their 
arrogance, treated Philip with all courtesy and respect, and 
finally secured to him the terms granted to Carthage. Macedon 
lost all her foreign possessions ; all her war ships but five ; 
agreed to maintain no larger army than five thousand men ; to 
engage in no war without consent of Rome, and to furnish troops 
as allies for Rome against Asiatic powers when required. 
These conditions complied with and a fine of one thousand 
talents (nearly $1,220,000) paid over to Rome, Philip was allowed 
to go in peace, and Macedon was reduced to a mere impover- 
ished state. Her political importance was gone forever. Rome 
was now undisputed ruler of Southern Europe and Northern 
Africa. Her next move was upon Asia. 



MAGNESIA. 




190 B. C. 



''^ ;y^ T will be remembered that after the death of 
Alexander the Great at Babylon in 323 B. C. 
his great conquests in Asia and Africa were 
divided among his prominent generals. Anti- 
gonus, Ptolemy, Lysimachus and Seleucus were 
the four chiefs. Antigonus was killed in battle 
301 B. C, and twenty years afterwards Seleucus 
was assassinated, but not until his title of king 
had been firmly established and his monarchy 
extended over all the country between the Indus and Phrygia. 

Under his descendants, the Seleucidse, this great empire 
dwindled gradually away, but even at the time of the second 
Macedonian war with Rome it comprised Syria, Palestine and 
much of Asia Minor, and now in 197 B. C. Antiochus the Great, 
as he called himself, a great-great-grandson of Seleucus, was 
on the throne. 

Of Macedonian descent, his sympathies had been with King 
Philip during the war just brought to a close by the disaster of 
Cynoscephalje ; but this sympathy was due more to a jealousy 
of the rising power of Rome than to any especial sentiment of ' 
friendship for Macedon. He had hoped to conquer Egypt by 
the aid of Philip, in which case he would have been compelled 
to divide the .spoil, but now that Philip was humbled and power- 
less he set about winning it without him, and presently his in- 
terests clashed with those of Rome. Marked successes with 
which he had met in the Egyptian provinces made him over- 
confident, and his next move was to risk a war with Rome by 
(136) 



THERMOPYL^ AGAIN. 137 

crossing the Hellespont and invading the Thracian Chersonese. 
Then Rome's old enemy, Hannibal, came to visit Antiochus at 
Ephesus, and was received with such distinction that Rome was 
justified in looking upon the king as an avowed enemy and 
should have prepared to meet him. 

But, by some strange error, Flaminius withdrew at this mo- 
ment all the Roman garrisons from Greece, and, doubly en- 
couraged, Antiochus became more openly hostile. The ^Etol- 
ians now broke out against Rome, and were so warmly supported 
by Antiochus that there could be no further delay. In the spring 
of 193 B. C. Rome demanded that Antiochus " should either 
evacuate Europe and dispose of Asia at his pleasure, or retain 
Thrace and submit to Roman protectorate over Smyrna, Lamp- 
sacus and Alexandria Troas." Antiochus would' do neither, 
and war was declared in the spring of 192. 

And now, though the fight was between Rome and Asia, 
Greece became the battle-ground, as she lay midway between 
them. Antiochus, with a small army of about 10,000 men, 
landed at Pteleum on the Pagassean Gulf, in southeastern Thes- 
saly, and a Roman army of 25,000 at the same time disembarked 
at their accustomed place on the opposite side of the peninsula 
— Apollonia, in southwestern Illyria. 

The first advantage was gained by the Asiatics, who captured 
Chalcis, the principal city of the island of Euboea, established 
head-quarters there and annihilated a Roman division at Delium, 
on the opposite shore of the straits. Then came a winter with 
no decisive actions on either side, but in the spring of 191 heavy 
reinforcements arrived from Rome, and Antiochus, who had 
taken up a strong position at time-honored Thermopylae, and 
had intrusted to the jEtolians the defence of the mountain path- 
way by which Xerxes had " turned " Leonidas, was totally sur- 
prised and had his army cut to pieces before his eyes. He him- 
self escaped with only 500 men to Chalcis, and, abandoning 
everything, hurried back to Ephesus. His European scheme of 
conquest was ruined. He had lost everything but some trivial 
possessions in Thrace. 

All the winter that followed was filled up with important naval 



138 MAGNESIA. 

movements, the fleets of Antiochus and of Rome constantly 
meeting everywhere from the Hellespont to the Mediterranean, 
and finally in August, 190, a great sea-fight took place at the 
promontory of Myonesus, where the Romans took or sank 
forty-two ships and totally defeated the Asiatics. After that 
there was no farther attempt on the part of Antiochus either to 
meet the Romans at sea or to check the crossing of the army 
at the Hellespont. In fact, he was so panic-stricken by this 
unlooked-for disaster to his fleet that he hastily ordered the 
abandonment of a strong position still held by his troops at 
Lysimachia, near the Thracian Chersonese, and left other garri- 
sons at yEnus and Maronea to their fate. 

And now the hero of Spain and Africa, the conqueror of Han- 
nibal, Scipio Africanus, was called upon by his fellow-citizens to 
carry the war into Asia. The Roman reserve in Italy was sent 
forward into Greece, and the army in Greece under Glabrio was 
destined for the advance into Asia under the gallant young sol- 
dier who had triumphed over Rome's most powerful enemy. 
Such was the enthusiasm of the army when it was announced 
that Scipio was again to take the field that 5,000 of his old com- 
rades, veterans of Spain and Africa, volunteered for the hazard- 
ous campaign on new and untried fields. They were to serve 
under him whom they regarded as invincible, and that was 
sufficient. 

Scipio joined the army in March ; found the ^Etolians hostile 
and troublesome, and was compelled to waste valuable time in 
a mountain warfare with those rather unprincipled characters. 
Finally he arranged a six months' armistice, and then set forth 
upon his march to the Hellespont. It was a long, tedious, un- 
eventful journey along the shores of Thrace and Macedon, King 
Philip obediently supplying rations and securing them from in- 
terruption, and the army reached the Chersonese in August, and, 
utterly unopposed, as opposed they should have been, crossed 
the Hellespont and were fairly in Asia Minor. Rome had 
invaded Asia. 

Thoroughly alarmed, Antiochus now begged for peace; offered 
to pay half the expenses of the war and to cede the Chersonese 



SCIPIO ILL. 139 

and certain Greek cities in Asia Minor. Scipio, however, de- 
manded the whole co.st of the war and the surrender to Rome 
of all Asia Minor. Having come that far, and feeling sure of 
his ground, it is probable that Scipio determined on complete 
conquest or a pitched battle. His manner therefore was inten- 
tionally arrogant and haughty. Antiochus was enraged by it, 
and instead of falling back into the interior, drawing the Ro- 
mans after him and then breaking up their sources of supply, 
he was goaded into desire for battle, and battle there was 
forthwith. 

Just north of where Smyrna now lies, on the extreme eastern 
end of the gulf of the same name, there rises a tall eminence, 
Mount Siphylus by name, and around its northern base there 
flows from east to west a placid stream, the river then called 
Hermus, now the Sarabat. On the left or southern bank of the 
river, at the foot of Mount Siphylus, lay a little town called 
Magnesia. There was still another Magnesia close by Ephesus, 
farther to the south, but it is this little town in the valley of the 
Hermus that is memorable as the scene of the one land conflict 
which gave to Rome her ascendency in the East. 

Here, late in the autumn, while marching southward on the 
capital of Antiochus, the Roman army encountered the Asiatic 
forces, and the battle began without further ceremony. Scipio 
had been taken ill and was left behind at Elsea, but, with perfect 
confidence in the result, had pushed his army ahead under the 
command of Gna^us Domitius. It was a small force to venture 
in through a hostile country, but the line of march was near the 
coast and aid could be relied on from the Roman fleet should 
disaster befall them. But Scipio feared no disaster. His men 
were in perfect discipline and condition, and, though he had not 
more than 35,000, all told, he entertained no fear as to the 
result. 

Against them Antiochus formed in battle order no less than 
80,000 men, 12,000 of whom were cavalry. The battle-ground 
was hemmed in by heights and so narrow that he was compelled 
to mass his forces, in order to get them into position at all. His 
was an unwieldy and very heterogeneous army. All manner of 



140 MAGNESIA. 

soldiery served therein, so that the variety was almost as great 
as in the days of Xerxes. He formed them in two lines. In 
the first were posted the light troops, archers, stone-slingers 
and peltaslce ; the mounted archers of the Dahze and Mysians; 
Arabs on dromedaries, and the dreaded war-chariots with their 
cruel scythes and spear-tipped poles. In the second line on 
both flanks were posted the heavy cavalry who, being arm.eJ 
with breastplate and helmet for defence against javelin and 
arrow, were an innovation on all former ideas of Asiatic horse- 
men, and were copied probably from the Macedonians, as was 
the massive phalanx, 16,000 strong, which was posted in the 
centre of the second line, and was regarded as the very flower 
of the whole army. The confined space made it necessary to 
draw up the phalanx in double deep order, thirty-two instead of 
sixteen files, and there it stood, armed and equipped in all re- 
spects as was the phalanx of Alexander, a dangerous foe to 
withstand should it come to the charge, but a bulky and un- 
wieldy mass in a crowded or broken ground. Between the 
compact battalions of the phalanx and the cataphracice or heavy 
cavalry were the light infantry, Gallic and Cappadocian, recruited 
from Eastern Asia Minor; and, finally, between the two divi- 
sions or lines were placed fifty-four elephants, trained, as were 
those of Hannibal, to charge and break up the ranks of the 
enemy. All the strength and solidity, all the real force of the 
mixed array of Antiochus seemed to be in the second line. All 
in front was of light or irregular order. 

And against this motley army the soldiers of Rome, in disci- 
plined silence, took up their position. 

On their left flank, securing it from assault by cavalry, flowed 
the river Hermus. Here, therefore, only a small command of 
horsemen was placed instead of the equal division usually noted 
on each flank. The main body of the Roman horse was out on 
the extreme right of their line, 3,000 in number, all under the 
leadership of Eumenes. Under him also were the light troops 
and the allies, some 5,000 in number, Achaeans, Pergamenes and 
Macedonians. But in the centre and left-centre were drawn up 
the glittering legions, and herein lay the strength and confidence 



THE BATTLE "begins. 141 

of Rome. Back of the line, some little distance, stood the 
Roman camp, guarded by only a handful of picked men, for 
Domitius never doubted the result and never dreamed that a 
possibility existed of attack on the camp itself 

Eumenes opened the ball. The archers and slingers were 
launched out to the front and, in compliance with their orders, 
opened fire, not on the opposing soldiery but on the teams of 
the chariots and on the camels. Wounded, stung and fright- 
ened, teams and camels were almost instantly thrown into dis- 
order, became unmanageable, and many turned and dashed off 
to the rear. This being just what Eumenes expected, he had 
his fine body of cavalry in readiness, and the instant the lines of 
chariots and camels began to break up and turn about in panicky 
confusion he signalled the advance, led in at full gallop, and the 
camels and team-horses hearing the uproar behind them could 
not be controlled, and, worse still, dashed headlong into the 
midst of the heavy cavalry of the second line just as their gen- 
eral was essaying to lead them out to meet the advancing 
Romans. The cataphracts of the Asiatic left were thrown into 
confusion and their efforts to advance rendered powerless, and 
at this instant the Roman horsemen rushed in at the charge, 
directing their main attack upon the light infantry on the left of 
the phalanx, who made no stand whatever against such impetu- 
ous assault, but while some ran for their lives to the rear, others, 
the greater portion of them, huddled in under the spears of the 
phalanx where alone they were safe, but where they utterly im- 
peded its movements and threw it in turn upon the defensive 
just at the very moment when Antiochus expected and ordered 
it to advance upon the legions. 

Never doubting that his grand phalanx was moving in sup- 
port, he now threw forward his entire right wing, leading it in 
person, and easily overthrew the few Roman cavalry between 
the legions and the river; and, followed by swarms of his 
men who were glad enough to sweep through the opening 
thus afforded without having to come within range of the jave- 
lins and swords of the Roman infantry, he rushed ahead, leaving 
the battle behind him, and fiercely attacked the Roman camp. 



J42 MAGNESIA. 

Several thousand of his soldiers having followed him, this proved 
a far more attractive undertaking against the little garrison than 
facing those dreaded horsemen out on the open plain, and yet 
the Roman guard made so vigorous and determined a defence 
that even their overwhelming force was repulsed, and while 
forming anew for another attack, Antiochus learned, to his dis- 
may, that all had gone against him in the battle itself The 
phalanx was in full retreat. This was stunning news, but only 
too true. When he, with his right wing, advanced to the attack 
of the Roman left, he had ordered the whole phalanx to charge 
and overturn the legions in front of them. But the phalanx was 
blocked ; first, by the swarms of its own allies huddling about it 
for protection ; then, as these were let in through the intervals, 
the Roman cavalry vehemently assailed them on both flanks, 
compelling them to face outward and " couch " their spears. Then, 
as the horsemen by preconcerted signal drew back, the whole 
5,000 irregulars, archers, slingers, dart-throwers, came swarming 
lightly around them, just out of reach of the long spears, but 
rattling in upon them an incessant hail of barbed missiles or 
heavy stones, every one of which found its mark on some one 
in the jammed and goaded ranks. The one thing for the pha- 
lanx to do was instantly to advance in concerted movement, 
sweep, as it easily could sweep, all before it and bear down on 
the legions ; but, whether because no orders could be heard in 
the din and confusion, whether because their leaders were 
already down, or the battalions of the phalanx were cut off from 
one another in the melee, it seems that after some time helplessly 
and irresolutely standing their ground, the 16,000 massively 
armed hoplites began slowly, and with very fair order, to fall 
back before a far less number of foemen. Then the elephants, 
who all this time should have been employed in tearing to and 
fro through the legions, being stung by darts, rocks and javelins, 
and frightened by the uproar around them, became new elements 
of mischief, turning about and trampling through the retreating 
masses of the phalanx itself, tearing huge lanes among the spear- 
men, and utterly destroying their organization. This was the 
very thing for which Eumenes was praying. 



ANTIOCHUS VANQUISHED. 143 

Once more he launched in the cavalry, front, flank and rear, 
and now the Roman horsemen were able to dash in among uplifted 
spears and hew their way into the heart of the mail-clad squares. 
Another moment and with despairing cries the phalanx utterly 
broke, and, turning backs to the foe, took refuge in wild and dis- 
orderly flight. It was all over with Antiochus. At the camp a 
rally was attempted, but only added to the carnage. The heavy 
cavalry had long since disappeared in cowardly retreat, the foot- 
men were left to find what shelter they might, and, hunted down, 
pursued, relentlessly butchered, as was the savage fashion of the 
day, the army of Asia was utterly cut to pieces and destroyed. 
Incredible as it may seem, fifty thousand of the soldiers of Antio- 
chus were either killed, desperately wounded or prisoners, and 
this magnificent victory had been won without even calling upon 
the legions. They had not hurled a single javelin. The triumph 
of Magnesia, that gave to Rome a third continent, cost her just 
twenty-four troopers and three hundred footmen. 

And now Antiochus sued for peace. His army gone, his navy 
blockaded, what there was left of it ; he had no alternative. 
Asia Minor was surrendered to Rome, even Ephesus going with 
the grand total of cities and provinces, and, the kingdom of the 
Seleucidje having gone to pieces under the fifth ruler of the race, 
there remained to Asia no monarchy or combination of powers 
to resist Roman invasion. Winning Magnesia she had practi- 
cally won everything. If not absolutely the ruler, she was 
beyond question " the arbitress of the world from the Atlantic 
to the Euphrates." Three great nations had successively gone 
down before her. Three great states had become virtually 
merged in Rome, since they had no independent existence : the 
fourth, Egypt, was already under her protection. All others 
were prompt to call themselves allies of Rome, and she stood 
without a rival, leader of the known world. 




PYDNA. 

1 68 B. C. 

N 179 B. C. a new ruler appeared in Macedon. 
Philip died in his fifty-ninth year, broken- 
hearted and disappointed, leaving to his son 
Perseus the consummation of a project he had 
long been brooding over — revenge on Rome. 

The last years of his life had been bitter. 
All Greece seemed to turn against him. Rome 
listened to every complaint from the lips of his 
neighbors and would believe nothing in extenu- 
ation. One humiliation succeeded another, and 
nothing saved him from punishment in 183 but the intercession 
of his younger son Demetrius, who had lived years in Rome as 
hostage for his father's conduct,and who had there become very 
popular with the people and an avowed Roman in sentiment. 
This last cost him his life. Visiting Macedon on a mission for 
the Senate, he was accused by his elder brother Perseus of 
treachery to his country's cause ; a letter from Flaminius was 
urged as evidence against him, and the blinded and embittered 
old king ordered him put to death at once. All too late he 
learned that it was but a vile plot gotten up by Perseus to rid 
himself of a dangerous rival. He died in misery, leaving to 
the murderer of an innocent brother the throne of a well-nigh 
ruined kingdom. 

Perseus, black at heart as he was, and dastard and poltroon as 
he turned out to be, was a man of great executive ability. Just 
thirty-one when he ascended the throne, he brought to aid him 
a fine physique, dignified and martial carriage, a habit of com- 
mand and great energy and perseverance. With unlimited faith 
(144) 



CHARACTER OF PERSEUS. 145 

in his ability sooner or later to throw off and keep off the Roman 
yoke, he set vigorously to work at the reorganization of his 
kingdom and his armies. 

For twenty-six years there had been no invasion of Mace- 
donian territory by hostile armies except the raids of the few 
wild races to the north. A new generation of vigorous young 
men had sprung up since Cynoscephalae. The peace provision 
which after that disaster limited the standing army to five 
thousand men was ignored or in some way set aside, and 
Perseus had speedily at his command thirty thousand native 
Macedonians, without taking mercenaries into account, and 
these soldiers, young, hardy, vigorous, were drafted into the 
phalanx and constantly trained and exercised in all martial 
and athletic pursuits. Perseus and his people still believed 
that, properly handled, the phalanx would prove invincible even 
against the legions. Of course all these preparations could not 
escape the jealous eye of Rome, but it was some time before 
matters came to a clash, and war was declared. By that time 
the power of Macedon was double what it had been under 
Philip, and Perseus, if he had half the militarj' ability of his 
father, could prove a most dangerous foe. 

In 197 the treaty of peace between Rome and Macedon pro- 
vided that the latter was " to conclude no foreign alliance with- 
out the previous knowledge of Rome," but Perseus saw fit to 
make alliances with Byzantium, with cities of Boeotia, and with 
those inveterate mischief-makers, the ^tolians. On one side or 
other they had been mixed up in every quarrel that had taken 
place in Northern Greece for years past, and, basing her action 
on these forbidden alliances and on the expulsion by Perseus of 
a Thracian chief who was in alliance with Rome, the now 
mistress of the world for the third time declared war against 
Macedon. 

In the spring of 171 B. C. the Romans landed on the west 
coast as usual, having previously sent a large fleet around into 
the jEgean. Perseus, without allies or ships, stood on the 
defensive in his own kingdom. He had an army of 43,000 men, 
2 1,000 being phalangites, and 4,000 native cavalry. The rest 



146 PYDNA. 

were mercenaries and of little value except as light troops and 
skirmishers. The Roman forces amounted to over 30,000 
regular troops and some 10,000 in allies. In addition to the 
land forces a powerful fleet of forty vessels of the largest class, 
with 10,000 soldiers destined to take part in sieges should they 
be required, had been placed under the orders of the admiral 
Gains Lucretius, who was to act in conjunction with the consul 
Publius Licinius Crassus. 

Pushing forward into Thessaly, the advance-guard of the 
Romans met the outposts of Macedon near Larissa, and the 
former were defeated With a very heavy loss in proportion to 
numbers engaged : 2,000 foot and 200 horsemen were killed and 
600 made prisoners. It was a bad day for Crassus, who seems 
to have shown no soldierly spirit whatever, and to have allowed 
himself to be easily beaten. Perseus, knowing well that a vast 
power lay behind the small army advancing upon him, now 
offered terms of peace, hoping that his success might prompt the 
Romans to come to his terms. But Rome never made peace 
when defeated, and Perseus, who had made preparations for a 
defensive war, was so poor a general that now, with every ad- 
vantage, he could not or dare not take the offensive, and both 
armies fell back. 

Meantime the admiral had been doing little better than the 
consul. Rome recalled them both in disgust, and Lucius Hor- 
tensius took command of the fleet, and the new consul, Aulus 
Hostilius, of the army. They proved as worthless as their pre- 
decessors. The discipline of the fleet fell to pieces, and that of 
the army seemed utterly gone. On shore, in Western Macedo- 
nia, on the borders of Illyria, a division under Appius Claudius 
was beaten time and again, and the new consul, while vainly 
striving in a feeble and groping manner to restore discipline in 
his command, made two efforts to penetrate the mountain passes 
between Thessaly and Macedon, was easily repulsed each time 
and, had Philip instead of Perseus been in command in Macedon, 
it is probable that the Romans would have been driven out of 
Greece before reinforcements could reach them. But Perseus 
met every Roman blunder with one as great, and a third general 



yEMILIUS PAULLUS IN COMMAND. 147 

came out and took command, relieving Hostilius. Quinlus 
Marcius Philippus arrived in 169; managed by supreme good 
luck to cross the mountains and frighten Perseus into retreating 
on Pydna, burning what ships he had and sinking his treasure. 
But the Roman provisions gave out, and their flight would have 
been a sorry one had not Philippus also had the good luck to 
secure the surrender of the garrison at Tempe, with all their 
stores and supplies, before Perseus could regain his senses and 
the possession of the pass. 

And here Philippus seemed to be chained all through a long 
summer and winter. The Macedonians had strongly fortified 
their line along a little stream that flows into the Thermaic Gulf 
The road to rhe north ran along a narrow strip of country be- 
tween a range of mountains and the sea. He had forced his 
way through the pass itself, but could not push ahead without 
having a pitched battle on untried ground, with a force as strong, 
if not stronger, than his own. The one thing he could and 
should have done was to call upon his fleet to sail up the gulf 
to the rear of the Macedonian position, and so attack it simul- 
taneously front and rear. But nothing of the sort was thought 
of, or, at least, carried out, and Rome at last picked out the 
right man, recalled Philippus, and sent thither Lucius vEmilius 
Paullus, son of the consul who died at Cannae while striving to 
retrieve the blunder of his colleague, Varro. For the second 
time had'this noble son of a noble father been elected consul— 
both times on his merits — and now, in his sixtieth year, but still 
hale, vigorous and hearty, this tried and trusted old disciplina- 
rian and soldier came to the front and assumed command. The 
Roman army knew well it had found its master then and there. 
His mere presence restored order and discipline. 

For three years had Perseus been holding Rome at bay. It 
was about the 7th of June, 168 B. C, that the new consul 
arrived. Fifteen days after, on June 22d (Julian calendar), 
Pydna was won, and the war was over. 

The first thing he did was enough to show that he was master 
of the situation. The Roman army was intrenched in front of 
Tempe. Behind them lay the pass ; to their right the dancing 



148 PYDNA. 

waters, cf the Thermaic Gulf; to their left the range of Mount 
Olympus, nearly parallel with the coast ; to their front the nar- 
row strip between the mountains and the sea, along which lay 
the road to Pydna and the heart of Macedon. Some distance 
up the coast the little river Elpius emptied its waters into the 
sia, crossing the path from west to east. Here were fortified the 
lines of Perseus, stretching nearly from the mountains to the 
gulf Behind him, to his right rear, a narrow pathway led over 
the mountains into the valley of the Eurotas. The consul sent 
Publius Nasica with a strong division up that valley, with orders 
to surprise, if possible, but to seize at all hazards that important 
pass, while he himself pushed forward with the cavalry and light 
troops and kept the enemy busy in front. The plan worked to 
a charm. The pass was seized and held ; the position of Per- 
seus, which he had so laboriously fortified, was " turned," and 
he was compelled to fall back. Pydna, some twenty miles up 
the coast, was his first stopping-place, and there, in front of his 
magazines and stores, with fair open ground for his phalanx, he 
proposed to fight and overthrow the Romans. 

Deliberately as ever the army of /Emilius marched to within 
convenient distance of the halted enemy. Camp was pitched, 
duly fortified, and the outposts and vanguard were thrown well 
to the front. It is probable that the total force of the Romans 
did not exceed 35,000 men, though accessions of the allies may 
have brought it up to 40,000. The Macedonians had full as 
many and the choice of ground. But jEmilius had been careful 
to pitch his camp upon high ground, with abrupt slopes towards 
the north as protection against possible attack of that formidable 
phalanx, and the precaution was a wise one. It turned the fate 
of battle. 

There was an eclipse of the moon early on the morning of the 
2 2d, a fact duly foretold by a Roman officer, and announced to 
the whole army, that no superstitious fears might be excited- 
and along about noon the cavalry videttes and outposts of the 
two armies got into an indiscriminate fight among themselves 
while watering horses at a little stream. From an insignificant 
skirmish among a few score of troopers the affair began to grow 



A GREAT BATTLE BEGINS. I49 

serious. First from one side, then the other, knots of horsemen 
would gallop out to the assistance of their comrades, and the 
linesmen of the phalanx and the legions, who stood for some 
time amused and interested spectators of this unpremeditated 
cavalry combat, began to pick up their spears and shields and 
look around for orders to " fall in." Neither general had in- 
tended to fight a battle on that day. Each had determined on 
giving his army a good night's rest, but the men had been facing 
one another for over a year without any satisfactory encounter, 
were restlessly eager for fight, and as squadron after squadron 
mounted and trotted out to the front to take a hand in the fray, 
and the light infantry and irregulars became involved, both 
camps seemed by simultaneous impulse to spring to arms ; both 
commanders decided that the battle would have to be fought 
then and there. 

Hastily, but in thorough order and with something of their 
old steadiness and discipline, the lines of the legions moved for- 
ward from their camp, down the rugged slopes to the plain be- 
low, and there deployed in order of battle. By this time all the 
light troops, all the cavalry, were heavily engaged out at the 
front; no special manoeuvre or tactical evolution being attempted, 
but each corps, under its own officers, attacking or defending as 
the case might be, fighting without any general directing hand, 
but fighting stubbornly and savagely for all that. 

Beginning in a mere quarrel between the outposts soon after 
noon, swelling in the course of an hour to a general engagement 
between the cavalry and light troops of both armies, the battle 
of Pydna now became of fierce intensity, for the old consul had 
barely had time, riding to and fro bare-headed and unarmored 
among his legions, to straighten his lines and get each division 
in its appropriate place, when the hoarse uproar and clangor at 
the front gave place to shouts of warning — to a new, concerted 
battle-cry, and the irregulars and skirmishers could Be seen 
scattering in every direction. The Macedonian cavalry, a splen- 
did body of horse, drew promptly off to one side, and then, 
through the du.st and din of battle, extending across the field in 
solid, massive ranks ; bristling with its long, deadly spears, in 



150 PYDNA. 

one huge, human wave, the grand phalanx of Maeedon came 
sweeping over the plain, brushing away everything before it like 
chaff and bearing down steadily upon the silent splendor of the 
legions. In vain the Roman cavalry dashed at its flanks and 
strove to goad them in to turning upon them. In vain running 
slingers and archers showered missiles of every kind upon them. 
Nothing could check their resistless advance. No wonder the 
stout old consul trembled for his legions. Hastily sending orders 
to his cavalry and the light troops to hang upon their flanks and 
rear — above all, to keep off the Macedonian cavalry, .(Emilius 
quickly decides on his next move. There on level ground his 
legions will be powerless against that solid, machine-like attack. 
" Face to the rear," he orders, " and retire." 

Steadily the legions obey. In perfect discipline they move 
southward across the plain, reaching presently the broken and 
irregular ground in front of camp. Meantime the phalanx, 
balked of its expected prey and hoarsely shouting its challenge, 
has quickened its gait. Already it has come a mile or more at 
charging pace over a field heaped with dead or dying steeds and 
riders. Already much disorder is apparent in the ranks, for 
many have stumbled and fallen, and the impenetrable front is 
broken in many places. Now, in their eagerness to overtake 
and bring the legions to battle before they can reach the protec- 
6on of their camp, the men of the phalanx break into a run — 
some officers, knowing disorder to be fatal, strive to restrain 
their commands; others impetuously lead them on; the confusion 
becomes worse. Now the broken ground is reached, and here 
the breaks and gaps grow wider in the lines. Then come the 
slopes up which the legions are composedly marching. With 
taunts and jeers, but breathless now and with aU semblance of 
their massive order destroyed, the phalangites rush after and toil 
up the incline; and then, as old /Emilius watches eagerly with 
shrewd and practised eye, he sees his opportunity. Instantly 
the command rings from his lips ; the trumpeters sound the 
signal along the brazen lines ; the plumed helmets face about ; 
the sun that flashed but an instant before on glittering shields 
now shines on long ranks of brawny backs. The air is black 



THE PHALANX ANNIHILATED. 151 

one instant with the hurtling flight of javelins, then the short 
swords gleam on high, and, down the hill, rushing into every 
gap and opening, easily avoiding the long, unwieldy spears, 
down leap the stalwart men of the legions. 

Theit way checked, their inertia lost, their formation broken, 
their great spears now only in their way, the men of Macedon 
seem to know that all is over with them. Tricked and deluded 
into disorderly pursuit, badly handled by their commanders, the 
phalangites have but one hope of rescue : a charge to their re- 
lief by the entire cavalry of Macedon, now with Perseus, silent 
and distant spectators of the scene ; but their king is craven and 
panic-stricken. He sees well enough the trap into which his 
grand phalanx has been decoyed. He dare not let his horse- 
men go to their rescue. In miserable irresolution he stands a 
few brief moments watching the slow recoil of his shattered 
spearmen, listening to the hoarse chorus of triumphant shouts 
or despairing cries growing each moment nearer and nearer, 
and then he turns and flees to Pydna, and the cavalry follows 
him. Surrounded, hemmed in by merciless foes on every side, 
the once invincible phalanx of Macedon was left to its fate. One 
brief half hour had decided the outcome of the battle, but for 
long hours the work of death went on; the spearmen died in 
their tracks. It was the last appearance of that world-renowned 
organization on any battle-field of fame, and, as though not car- 
ing to survive its defeat, the soldiers of the select phalanx, 3,000 
in number, were cut down to a man ; 20,000 dead were left upon 
the field; 11,000 were taken prisoners. It was the death-blow 
of Macedon. 

In fifteen days, as has been said, yEmilius Paullus fought and 
won that brilliant campaign. In two days more the whole state 
had submitted. The king himself, with something like seven 
millions of dollars in treasure, succeeded in escaping temporarily, 
but only to find himself in a few days deserted by his last asso- 
ciates. Then, without a friend, without a harbor of refuge or an 
asylum left him, he surrendered, cringing and weeping, to his 
contemptuous conquerors. He soon died, a prisoner ; his son 
earned an humble living in an Italian country town as a clerk, 



152 PYDNA. 

and such was the mournful end of the once superb empire of 
Alexander the Great. Macedon was broken up into four pitiful 
and impoverished states, and from the date of Pydna " the uni- 
versal empire of Rome " was fully established. 




LAST FIGHT OF THE PHALAN.\. 



PHARSALIA. 



49 B. C. 




HE century that followed Pydna was one of 
incessant warfare for Rome. Ruling the 
world of civilization with a firm and often 
heavy hand, she had enemies in every direc- 
tion. Carthage was maddened by her oppres- 
sion and goaded into the war that ended her 
existence in the year 146 B. C. Then came 
a long and bitter war in Spain, closing with 
the destruction of Numantia in 133. Then 
followed " the revolutionary century " in 
Rome — one hundred years of ceaseless civil strife, beginning 
with the attempted reformation of the Gracchi, and ending only 
with the great naval battle of Actium, which made Octavianus 
Cssar ruler of the Roman world ; and all through these hundred 
years Rome was maintaining large armies abroad, fighting every- 
where, and adding large conquests to her possessions. First 
came the Jugurthine war in Africa (i 18-106), and even while 
this was going on there broke out the bloody and terrible strug- 
gle with the Cimbri and Teutones, in which army after army of 
Romans was defeated and sometimes massacred by these savage 
northern nations, who finally became so elated by their victories 
over the legions as to resolve to invade Italy itself But here 
they met a general who proved too skillful, and the consul 
Marius terribly punished the Teutones at the battle of Aquje 
Sextiae, near where Marseilles now stands, and then joining the 
armies of Rome retreating before the Cimbri, who had already 
forced their way into the valley of the Po, he turned fiercely 
upon the invaders at Campi Randii, and there utterly annihilated 

(163) 



154 'fTlARSALlA. 

their great force. The historian Livy states that in these two 
battles Marius killed or captured 450,000 men. 

The next great war was with Mithridates, King of Pontus, who 
was strong and daring enough to overrun the Roman provinces 
in Asia and even to invade Greece. Sylla drove him back with 
heavy loss, but in 74 B. C. he again collided with Rome, and but 
for his death by poison would have invaded Italy from the north- 
east, bringing all the warlike nations along the Danube with 
him. At this time the Asiatic conquests of the Romans were 
immense, and extended almost to the shores of the Caspian and 
well down the valley of the Tigris. 

But in 54 B. C. an unlucky name in Roman militar}' history, 
that of Crassus, is again prominent. A century before the con- 
sul of the same name had brought disaster to the national arms 
in the Macedonian war, and now Marcus Crassus, at the head 
of the grand army of the Euphrates, fought and lost a desperate 
battle with the Parthians at Carrhse in Mesopotamia, and, like 
his grand-uncle of the Macedonian campaign, chose a voluntary 
death rather than survive disgrace. As a disaster to Rome Car- 
rhse is ranked with those of Allia River, where in 390 B. C. 
the Gauls overwhelmed her soldiery and then pushed on and 
burned the capital, and with Cannae, where the legions of Varro 
were slaughtered by Hannibal. 

But at the same time that this ill-fated name was dying out, 
no more to be linked with disaster, another name, associated 
ever with valor and victory, was on every Roman tongue. 
Julius Caesar, he who for eight years had been winning distinc- 
tion and triumph at the head of Roman legions in the west — he 
who alone had been able to bring to terms the savage Gauls 
and to subdue the country west of the Rhine and north of the 
Pyrenees — he who had even invaded Britain — Julius Caesar, the 
idol of the Roman soldiery, was now at the head of a large and 
devoted army, and a bitter feud had sprung up between him 
and his colleague Pompey. Civil war was threatened, and as 
the only means of averting such a calamity, it was proposed that 
both Caesar and Pompey should resign their commands and 
retire from public life. This was in 51 B. C. Pompey flatly 
refused, and this determined the action of Csesar. 



C^SAR ANt) POMPEY. 155 

To a man who had rendered infinite service to the state, and 
possessed of the ambition of Caesar, such a proposition was 
unbearable. He had learned to look upon himself — and friends 
and flatterers had encouraged him so to do — as the one head of 
the Roman people. He would not resign. But Pompey was at 
the capitol, Caesar in the field ; and the Senate decided against 
the absent one. Caesar was commanded to disband his army or 
be considered a public enemy, and Pompey was named com- 
mander-in-chief of the Roman army. 

Caesar was at Ravenna, on the Adriatic, just north of the 
Roman frontier, marked by the little river Rubicon. He refused 
to disband his army ; the Senate declared war, and, prompt to 
accept the issue, Caesar crossed the Rubicon, invaded his native 
land, and in sixty days was master of all Italy, Pompey and his 
leading men having fled before him and taken refuge in Greece. 
The recognition of Caesar as leader of the Roman people 
seems to have been immediate. He took possession of the 
rich treasury at the capital, raised and equipped a great army, 
conquered the adherents of Pompey in Spain, was named dic- 
tator, but resigned the office for that of consul, and then pre- 
pared to advance upon Pompey himself, who with a large and 
formidable army, backed by the knights and nobility of Rome, 
who hated Caesar, was eagerly awaiting his coming in Greece. 

At this moment Caesar's available force was greatly scattered. 
His great rival had established his camp in Macedonia, and 
thither flocked hundreds of the nobility, hundreds of the officers 
who had escaped from Spain and Italy. They brought with 
them all the habits of effeminacy and luxury that had marked 
their life at the capital. The camp was no longer the scene of 
martial preparation and soldierly exercise. The grandees, 
turned their tents into decorated bowers, and the simple cam- 
paign fare into luxurious banquets. Wine flowed day and 
night, and the soldiers who at first looked on in wonderment, 
soon fell into the ways of their lords and eagerly imitated them 
to the extent of their means. Discipline was at low ebb in the 
camp of Pompey. Worse still, he himself had been for years 
past losing ground in public confidence fast as Caesar h^d been 



156 PHARSALIA 

gaining it. Formerly Pompey it was who had been looked 
upon as the general, Caesar only as a subordinate. Now, every- 
where the mistake was recognized ; even those who envied and 
hated him confessed his superior ability, but — among the nobles 
and aristocracy — no one could be named as fit to supersede 
even so poor a commander as Pompey in his decline had 
grown to be, while Caesar, the hero of the people, had dozens at 
his beck and call who were fit to handle armies in the field. In 
his camp all was Spartan simplicity. Food was coarse, but 
nourishing; drink was unknown ; discipline was perfect. Never 
at any time, under any other commander, were the trained sol- 
diers of Rome so prompt to move, so rapid and tireless in their 
march. Courage, obedience and endurance were cardinal vir- 
tues cultivated and rewarded with the utmost care, and in every- 
thing that pertained to the character and the bearing of the 
accomplished soldier Caesar was at once their instructor and 
their example. Nothing but vast superiority in numbers could 
warrant Pompey in hoping for success against troops at once 
so disciplined and so devoted. 

To confront Caesar he had gathered a large but rather a 
mixed array. From Italy he had brought with him, in his 
flight from Brundusium, some 15,000 Roman soldiers. These, 
with the Romans then living in Greece and some lUyrian pris- 
oners of war, were organized into five legions. From Asia 
Minor he succeeded in drafting three more — two being formed 
from what was left of the once grand army of the Euphrates, so 
recently shattered at Carrhse ; the third from the troops that had 
been stationed along the southern shore in Cilicia. Two more 
legions were raised from the Romans in Asia Minor, and one 
from veterans living in Macedonia and northern Greece or the 
neighboring isles ; making in all eleven legions, only five of 
which, however, were at the time skilled and exercised in the 
duties of the Roman soldier. Some 2,000 volunteers were 
added from the old Spanish army ; and the natives were called 
upon to furnish contingents to guard and garrison the coast. In 
addition to the disciplined velites of the legions, Pompey had 
3,000 archers and about half that number of slingers who served 
as irregulars. 



THE OPPOSING FORCES. 157 

For cavalry he was well provided — not with native Romans, 
to be sure, except a small but disorderly noble guard, formed by 
the young knights and nobles who had swarmed to his camp, 
but with well-mounted and well-equipped Celts, Thracians and 
Cappadocians, and mounted archers from Asia, in all some 
7,000 horse. 

In addition to his land force, Pompey had a fine fleet of 500 
vessels, and almost unlimited supplies of money, for he was sup- 
ported by the wealth and by the nobles of the vast empire of 
Rome. Prompt and regular payment of the soldiery secured 
their good will ; the veteran battalions were accorded certain dis- 
tinctions and privileges which promoted their spirit and alle- 
giance to their general ; so that, altogether, the army of Pompey 
was in excellent temper, despite the lack of instruction and dis ■ 
cipline observable in at least two-thirds of its number. 

In anticipation of the coming of Caesar, the fleet was stationed 
along the coast of Epirus and Southern Illyria ; the local troops • 
were strengthened at the important harbors and possible landing- 
places, and the army of Pompey was put in march from its camp 
in Southern Macedonia across the peninsula to the western 
shore. To reach them Csesar had one of two courses open to 
him : to embark his troops at Brundusium and sail across the 
Adriatic, or to follow the land route around the head of that 
gulf and down through the wild regions of Illyria. There were 
grave objections to both. In the first place he had no navy at 
all that was worthy the name ; his transports were very few in 
number, and the new war-vessels he had promptly ordered built 
were nowhere near ready. He had only ships enough to carry 
his army over in detachments, and to attempt this in the face of 
the great fleet of Pompey was foolhardy. Even were he to suc- 
ceed in slipping through their blockading squadrons and landing 
upon the coast of Epirus, he was then in imminent danger of 
being pounced upon by vastly superior forces and beaten in 
detail. On the other hand, the march around the shores of the 
Adriatic was really the shorter route for his tried legions now 
returning from Spain ; but besides the difficulties and hardships 
to be expected in that half-savage and almost unknown eastern 



Igg • PHARSALIA. 

shore, there was the grave military objection that in taking this 
route he " uncovered " Rome. 

If his army were to march Vay around by land, what was to 
prevent Pompey's embarkirg his entire force on his 500 vessels 
and simply ferrymg them across the narrow Adriatic, and land- 
ing in Southern Italy? The question was a grave one, and was 
■Solved in his characteristic way. Pompey was slow, heavy 
methodical ; Caesar was quick as a spring. The army of the 
former was, by slow marches, making its plodding way across 
from Thessalonica and the camp at Berroea. Some of the 
legions were even yet east of the Hellespont, trudging in from 
Cilicia. The fleet was there along the shore, and to them in 
serene confidence Pompey had confided the care of the coast ; 
but Pompey had allowed his personal jealousy of Cato to 
prompt the terrible blunder of relieving him from supreme com- 
mand in the navy, and placing in his stead a most incompetent 
■man, Marcus Bibulus. 

One day early in November, 49 B. C. (or, by the Roman cal- 
endar, early in January, 48), the lookouts at the headquarters of 
the Pompeian fleet, on the northern end of the island of Corcyra, 
dimly made out, far to the north, a large number of sail head- 
ing in for the coast of Epirus. Bibulus was duly notified, but 
for some utterly incomprehensible reason was not ready to put 
to sea. He had a small fleet of eighteen vessels in the bay of 
Oricum, very near the point towards which the strange flotilla 
was heading. They saw what was coming plainly enough, and 
very discreetly kept out of the way. Julius Caesar, with only 
six legions, reduced by toil and hard marching and fighting to 
only about half their proper strength, with only six hundred 
horsemen, had seized every ship on which he could lay hand, 
and daringly, almost desperately, set sail into the very fastness 
of the opposing fleet. Nothing but absolute contempt for an 
enemy's ability could justify so foolhardy a risk ; but Caesar 
seems to have known his man. Delay would simply complicate 
matters, and — success always succeeds. The audacity of his 
course paralyzed Bibulus. The landing was accomplished in 
safety ; the ships went back for more troops, and then, sudden as 



MARK ANTONY TO THE RESCUE. 159 

the swoop of falcon, Csesar dashed upon the seaports of Oricum 
and Apollonia, and threatened the great arsenals and depots of 
Dyrrhachium farther up the coast. The first blow of the cam- 
paign which was to determine the mastery of Rome was struck 
— and it was a thunderbolt to Pompey. 

Now, indeed, he rallied every energy. Even Bibulus seemed 
to wake up. Dyrrhachium was rescued just in time, Pompey 
himself rushing forward with the leading legions and seizing the 
citadel. Bibulus and his fleet gave chase to the returning ship.s 
of Caesar, captured and burned thirty of them, crews and all; 
then blockaded Brundusium and the Italian coast, and now, in- 
deed, Caesar was in a critical position. No reinforcements could 
reach him. Supplies would soon be exhausted, and he had 
barely 20,000 men with which to defend himself against twice 
that many. 

But Pompey dare not attack. Intrenching his army between 
Apollonia and Dyrrhachium, he preferred waiting till the legions 
from the east could reach him, relying upon his fleet to prevent 
reinforcements from reaching Caesar. Once again, however, his 
fleet failed him, and Caesar's devoted friend, Marcus Antonius, 
with four legions and 800 cavalry, aided by a strong wind, 
slipped across the Adriatic, though chased every inch of the way, 
landed above Pompey 's position and, with supreme energy and 
good luck, succeeded in marching around him and joining 
Caesar. 

And now followed a series of sharp and serious encounters 
and manoeuvres in which, at last, Cffisar was decidedly crippled, 
while Pompey still retained possession of his depots of supply 
and all lines of communication. Caesar's fleet had disappeared 
from the waters, and his condition was desperate. He could 
not get back to Italy. He could not shake the position of 
Pompey, who coolly fought on the defensive, relying on the 
prospect of speedily wearing out his antagonist. There was but 
one course for the indomitable conqueror of Gaul. He left his 
wounded and ineffectives at Apollonia and boldly plunged east- 
ward into Thessaly, dashing upon city after city, seizing all the 
supplies he needed, richly repaying his army for the hardships 
they had undergone, and daring Pompey to follow him. 
II 



IGO PHARSALIA. 

By every law of strategy the latter should now have crossed 
at once to Italy and made himself master at home, as he could 
readily have done. But he and his nobles were by this time in- 
flamed with such hatred against Caesar, that nothing but his de- 
struction would satisfy them, and Pompey turned eastward in 
pursuit. 

Out on the broad Thessalian plain, not more than ten miles 
straight away from the ridge of Cynoscephalse, lay the little town 
of Pharsalus or Pharsalia, now called Fersala. It is perhaps 
twenty-one miles a little west of south from the site of old 
Larissa. From the mountain range of Othrys there flowed, in 
those days and still flows, northward towards Cynoscephalse, a 
shallow, placid stream, ahnost dry in midsummer, only two feet 
deep at other times, and never rapid or dangerous. It was 
called the Enipeus, and about two or three miles northeast of 
Pharsalia it joined the broader waters of the Apidanus, and with 
them swept around Pharsalia at a distance still of three miles, 
and rolled away northwestward to join the river of the broad 
valley — the Peneius. Just north of Pharsalia the united waters 
were too broad and deep, the banks too steep for easy crossing, 
but, by going around above their point of confluence, both the 
Enipeus and the Apidanus could be bridged or even forded with 
comparative ease. 

The entire army of Pompey had united at Larissa, made an 
easy day's march down past Cynoscephalse, and camped on the 
northern or right bank of the Apidanus, along the slopes up 
towards Scotussa and the famous battle-field of Flaminius and 
Philip, a century and a half before. A far more decisive and 
desperate battle was now to be fought in the same neighborhood, 
for here, on the plain of Thessaly, on a hot, dry summer's day, 
far away from Italy, the mastership of the Roman empire was to 
be settled. Two old allies, father and son-in-law in bygone 
days, but now powerful and bitter enemies, were to grapple for 
the dominion of the world. 

The army of Pompey comprised eleven legions (47,000 in- 
fantry) and 7,000 horse. Csesar had but eight legions, so re- 
duced by hard service tliat, all told, he could muster but 22,000 



C^SAR ON THE DEFENSIVE. 161 

men, and of these only 1,000 were cavalry. The soldiers of 
Pompey were well fed, well supplied ; those of Csesar were gaunt 
and hungry. In every way the chances of war were with 
the former, and the recent revival of his once trusted military 
genius (as shown in the struggle in Epirus which had so baffled 
Caesar) had restored to him the confidence of his troops. 

Knowing that he had everything at stake and the odds against 
him, Caesar hoped to fight on the defensive and force Pompey to 
attack him on his own ground, southwest of the Enipeus ; but 
for some time Pompey delayed. At last, however, on the 9th 
of August, 48 B. C, his army was seen marching out of camp, 
crossing the Apidanus, some four miles away from Pharsalia, 
then turning towards the shallow Enipeus ; and Cffisar, facing 
eastward, with Pharsalia at his back, his left wing in the broken, 
hilly ground south of the Apidanus, his right wing well out on 
the plain, stood ready to meet him. 

Facing west and deploying along the Enipeus, Pompey slowly 
and cautiously crossed that little stream and moved out upon 
the plain, resting his right wing upon the Apidanus. Caesar's 
poverty in cavalry had suggested to him the capital plan of 
keeping back his infantry, but of making a grand dash with his 
overwhelming force of horsemen and scattering the little band 
on Caesar's exposed right flank, sweeping around it, and attack- 
ing him front and rear at the same time. But Caesar did not 
propose to allow him any such simple solution of the battle 
problem. No sooner were the legions well across the Enipeus 
with their leading lines, than those of Caesar came gallantly for- 
ward to meet them. 

The attack was determined and even desperate, but the best 
legions of Pompey's army happened to be the ones on whom it 
fell, and the contestants, in point of valor, were equally matched, 
while numbers were against Cssar. Little by little his scarred 
and wearied soldiers were forced back by the lines of Pompey, 
and the battle in the centre dragged heavily, with little promise 
of anything better than a protracted and stubborn duel that 
would last till dark ; but on Caesar's right his little band of 
horsemen and intermingled light troops, after a brave and 



POMPEY UTTERLY ROUTED. Ig3 

and when they broke and left him, he himself in despair quitted 
the field. His friends claimed that he rushed to rally the fleeing 
horsemen. Historians assert that he fled to his camp. Which- 
ever it may be, there was no directing head when Caesar's grand 
general attack crashed in upon the Pompeian lines, and the 
legions, disheartened and deserted, fell back in some disorder, 
sustaining severe loss as they crossed the stream ; and Pompey, 
noting their defeat from a distant point, tore from his shoulders 
the badge of his office, the general's scarf he no longer dared to 
wear, and spurred for the sea-coast. His army was still strong 
enough, properly led and handled, to beat Csesar, but he had 
lost his nerve. 

As for Caesar, he well knew how to strike when the iron was 
hot and to reap the fruits of victory. Eagerly, persistently he 
urged forward the pursuit, striking everywhere. The camp 
guard was quickly overthrown ; every attempt to rally checked 
by impetuous dash; for miles his legions chased the rapidly 
falling foe, and when the sun went down behind the range of 
Pindus, for miles in every direction, the broad, rolling prairie 
land of Thessaly was covered with the dead and dying of Pom- 
pey's broken host. Pharsalia meant not only its defeat, but its 
practical annihilation. Fifteen thousand of that host were killed 
or wounded, while Caesar had lost but 200 men, and the morn- 
ing after the battle the 20,OCX3 Pompeians, who still had managed 
to hold together, laid down their arms. Out of eleven legions 
the eagles of nine were surrendered to Caesar. 

As to the immediate consequences of Pharsalia, it is recorded 
that to put an end once and for all to this disastrous civil war 
the victor deemed it necessary to resort to extreme measures 
with the leaders. Many senators, knights and men of prom- 
inence in Roman affairs were captured with the remnants of 
Pompey 's army. These, almost all, were put to death. Others 
suffered heavy fine or confiscation of property. Minor officers 
and soldiers were distributed throughout the army and required 
to take service under the victorious eagles of Csesar, a thing no 
one of them seemed to be averse to. 

But the political consequences of this great and decisive vie- 



164 PHARSALIA. 

tory were far-reaching. All the kings, all principalities, all 
nations and cities subject to Roman rule, fast as the news 
reached them of the overthrow of Pompey, were prompt to 
tender their allegiance to the conqueror of Gaul, the now ac- 
knowledged leader of the great nation. Most of them denied 
refuge to the exiles and wanderers who strove to find escape 
from the dreaded punishment of Caesar. From the Atlantic to 
the Euphrates the name of Julius Caesar knew no rival. 

Pompey fled to Egypt, where, on the instant of his arrival, he 
was assassinated by one of his former officers. Cato, Scipio 
and others of his generals succeeded in reaching Africa and in 
stirring up a powerful rebellion against the rule of Csesar, but, 
never thinking of returning to Rome until he had put down the 
last vestige of revolt, that daring and energetic soldier followed 
at their heels, and the terrible battle of Thapsus, which cost them 
50,000 souls, ended their last efforts. Losing only fifty men, 
Caesar had slain a thousand for one. Cato killed himself in 
despair, and the conqueror of every nation that had yet opposed 
him, including his own, returned in triumph to the capital to be 
named dictator for life. 

Yet within two years of his last victory at Thapsus, Caius 
Julius Cffisar, " Caesar Imperator," the greatest soldier and hero 
ever brought forth even by martial Rome, died in the very height 
of his power, in the vigor of his ambitious life, the victim of a 
score of high-born assassins. 



PHILIPPI. 



42 B. C. 




HE assassination of Julius Csesar led to a re- 
newed outbreak of civil war. Brutus, Cassius, 
Trebonius, Cimber and Casca, who were 
leaders in the conspiracy against him, claimed 
to be striving in the interests of a thoroughly 
republican form of government. CJEsar's 
announcement of his determination to lead 
an army into Parthia to avenge the death of 
Crassus and the disaster of Carrhse, carried 
with it, they asserted, a decided intention of the imperator to 
assume the title of king. " Caesar was ambitious " was the cry 
against him ; but such was his hold on the Roman people that 
only by foul means could his downfall be secured. 

Occurring as the assassination did m the very height of his 
popularity with the people of Rome, and so soon after he had 
been named dictator for life, the effect produced throughout the 
entire world, as known to historians of the day, was something 
indescribable. Caesar had only reached his fifty-seventh year; 
the maladies which had marked his early youth had disappeared; 
his life was so rugged with ceaseless campaigning that there was 
every promise of years of vigorous health and usefulness to 
come. The greatest soldier of his great nation, and one of the 
most polished scholars and gentlemen of his day, Caesar was 
revered and honored throughout the army, and was respected 
and perhaps feared by all classes. 

The turbulent populace had long been eager for an excuse for 
outbreak. It now was furnished them. To have been a devoted 
adherent of the dead hero was sufficient claim for any man to 

(165) 



166 PHILIPPI. 

demand their adherence now, and Mark Antony was shrewd 
enough to seize the opportunity. 

Despite the efforts of such statesmen and orators (if there 
were orators like him) as Cicero, the people overleaped all 
bounds ; wild scenes of tumult and disorder took place. Antony, 
by virtue of having been Caesar's faithful friend, was now upheld 
as his representative, and speedily took upon himself the rights, 
though he possessed not the authority, of dictator. Caesar had 
made certain assignments of prominent Romans to the govern- 
orships of the provinces, and these Antony proceeded to carry 
out, thus ridding the capital at least of some of his heartiest op- 
ponents. The Senate, in order to avert possible civil war, had 
accepted the advice of Cicero. The assassins were to be left to 
the judgment of posterity. Amnesty was declared. Trebonius 
was sent to govern the provinces in Asia; Cimber to Bithynia; 
Marcus Brutus to Macedonia, and Cassius to Syria, and in ihis 
way, though it drove them from Rome, vast power was to be 
placed in the hands of the republican leaders. But here Antony 
ijiterposed. These assignments had been the projects of Caesar 
and were ratified by the Senate, but Brutus and Cassius were per- 
sonally and politically his enemies. Before the expiration of their 
terms of office as praetors at home Brutus and Cassius found 
themselves supplanted. Antony declared that he acted for Caesar 
in revoking their appointments and sending his colleague, Dol- 
abella, to Syria while he took Macedonia himself 

Then a new popular hero appeared. Caesar had adopted 
young Caius Octavius as his son, and this youth, now barely 
nineteen years of age, had been serving with the legions in 
Greece; had endeared himself to the soldiers by manly bearing, 
and, urged by them and hjs mother's letters, he hurried back to 
Italy and assumed his full name, now legally his own, Caius 
Julius Caesar Octavianus. This was the boy who was destined, 
a few years later, to triumph over all opponents, and by skill, 
daring and address to work his way up to the throne of the 
proudest nation on the face of the globe, to be hailed every- 
where as its first, perhaps its greatest emperor, Augustus Caesar. 

Antony had not looked for the coming of this eager strip- 



CAIUS OCTAVIUS APPEARS. 167 

ling. He was amazed at the tact and energy the young soldier 
displayed. The army took to him at once. Cicero, the orator 
and statesman, Antony's most bitter enemy, hastened to his 
support. Five legions " declared " for Octavianus, and pro- 
nouncing him a rebel, Antony had to take the field against him. 
Two new consuls, Hirtius and Pansa, came into office and were 
sent with their armies to reinforce Octavius, for now, urged by 
the eloquence of Cicero, the Senate, too, had come to his sup- 
port. Antony became the rebel. Sharp actions were fought 
near Mutina, and by strange fatality both the new consuls were 
killed. The advantage for the time seemed decidedly with 
Antony, who presently appeared at the head of twenty -three 
legions, and the Senate was in consternation. 

In dread of Antony their first move was to repudiate Octavius 
and forbid his coming within ninety miles of Rome, but the 
young soldier was worthy of his name and his adoption ; he had 
all the spirit and dash of the dead Cffisar. With eight legions 
he crossed the Rubicon and reached the gates of Rome, and the 
Senate cringed before him while the people hastily assembled 
and elected him consul. He was less than twenty years old, by 
just one day, at the moment of his election to this high office. 

Being now at the head of the state, Octavius sent propositions 
of peace to Antony and Lepidus which were promptly accepted. 
The decrees of the Senate against them were annulled. The 
murderers of Caesar, it was arranged, should be brought to trial, 
and, as joint rulers of Rome, " the Cesarean leaders," as they 
were called, Antony, Lepidus and Octavius, formed the cele- 
brated " Second Triumvirate " in the year 43 B. C. 

Brutus and Cassius were now ruling in the eastern provinces. 
Only a few months before, the Senate was praying for their 
return with troops to annihilate both Antony and Octavius. 
Now, war was declared agamst them — the last leaders of the 
republican party. Their career in the East had been discredit- 
able in the last degree, and they had violently quarrelled when 
meeting at Sardis. Brutus had permitted the burning and pil- 
lage of Xanthus, whose people preferred to throw themselves 
into the flames rather than fall into the hands of his soldiers. 



168 PHILIPPI. 

Cassius had attacked Rhodes, demanded a fine of 8,500 talents, 
and enforced its payment by beheading fifty prominent citizens. 
There was every evidence in the armies of both these leaders of 
utter Hcense, debauchery and cold-blooded cruelty as well as 
insubordination. 

On the other hand, before taking the field against these pow- 
erful political generals, the Triumvirate made itself a black 
record in the so-called " proscription." They dared leave no 
powerful enemies at home. Each of the three prepared a list 
of the citizens most inimical to him. Even near relatives were 
included, and then occurred a series of cold-blooded assassina- 
tions that are horrible in their details. Even the grand old 
statesman and orator, Cicero, he " who so often had saved the 
state," sick and prostrate on his litter, was overtaken, and, while 
he calmly bared his throat and looked his conscience-stricken 
executioner in the eye, received his savage death-wounds. His 
venerable head and those of the scores of proscribed who failed 
to make their escape were borne to the capitol, and then the 
Triumvirate went forth to war. 

Knowing well their coming, Brutus and Cassius, with a large 
army of one hundred thousand men, well used to war, as every^ 
body seems to have been in those days, awaited them near Phil- 
ippi. The position was one most favorable for defence. The 
mountains (Pangseus, which separated them from Thrace as they 
stood at the eastern end of Macedonia) came down almost to 
the sea-shore ; the foothills were sharp and abrupt — easily for- 
tified, and the ^lEgean, bearing their many ships, lay close upon 
their left. All their supplies came to them by sea, and protected 
by its waters and their ready fleet from the possibility of being 
" turned " in their southern or left flank, and resting their right 
on the mountains themselves, Brutus and Cassius felt secure. 
Their lines were just about twelve miles east of Philippi. 

But Brutus had been educated mainly in Athens, was a Stoic, 
a dreamer, and a believer in omens. History tells of a terrible 
vision appearing to him just before the campaign, pronounced 
itself his evil demon, declared its intention of confronting him 
again at Philippi. Shakespeare makes the vision the ghost of 



THE VISION OF BRUTUS. 169 

Caesar himself, but whatever it was, the creature of a disordered 
brain or an avenging conscience, it ruined the nerve of Brutus. 
He confided his dread and premonitions to Cassius, and it is 
probable that when that vision reappeared, as it is said to have 
done, a night or two before the battle, Brutus was doubly con- 
vinced that death was near. 

Here at Philippi the army of the Triumvirate speedily estab- 
lished its camp. Much more formidable in numbers and dis- 
cipline than that of the republicans, it had made a long and 
toilsome march and was well-nigh destitute of provisions. 
Antony, nearest the sea, and commanding the right wing, faced 
the army of Cassius ; Octavius, with the left wing, confronted 
that of Brutus. It was the month of November in the year 42 
B. C. that the last blow for the Roman republic was to be struck. 
Cassius, shrewd, cautious, calculating, saw that with their lack 
of provisions the enemy would be most harassed by delaying the 
combat, but Brutus was desperate — determined to risk all on a 
single throw, and to do it at once. It was he who precipitated 
the battle of Philippi. 

A singular misfortune had occurred to Octavius just at this 
crisis, one that for a time threatened to becloud his reputation as 
a soldier. A battle was imminent ; he was taken sick and had 
to be removed some distance to the rear, and Brutus had ordered 
a general attack with his wing just at the moment when the army 
in front of him had been deprived of its leader. 

Of the actual phases, the movements and changes of the bat- 
tle of Philippi, no detailed accounts have reached us. The wing 
of Brutus, charging with great impetuosity, seems to have utterly 
overthrown that of the now absent Octavius, and to have driven 
it back in confusion and dismay. But, while he was winning 
this great success, and perhaps beginning to take heart and 
believe that the evil demon of his vision was but an empty 
dream after all, Mark Antony on the other flank had charged, 
utterly overwhelmed Cassius, and sent the republican left wing 
whirling from the field. Cassius himself, driven even beyond his 
camp, was left almo.st alone in the rout that followed. He could 
not rally his men. He was deserted by most of his officers, and 



SUICIDE OF ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. l'J\ 

the west. Antony preferred the luxury and wealth to be found 
in the Asiatic provinces, and so decided to remain there. It 
was while in Cilicia that he summoned before him for trial 
Cleopatra, the renowned Queen of Egypt, who stood accused of 
conspiring with Cassius against the Triumvirate. She came 
fearlessly, sailing up the Cydnus in her marvellous barge " with 
purple sails and silver oars," surrounded by all the beauty and 
witchery of her court ; she herself outrivalling all in physical 
charms and in mental powers. She was summoned to sentence 
but she came to conquer, and Antony fell a victim at the first 
interview. Here began his downfall. 

Rivalry of an intense nature had already sprung up between 
him and Octavius. For five years a hollow pretence of alliance 
was kept up between them, and Antony had for a time to appear 
at Rome, but speedily returned to the east and Cleopatra, who 
had completely ensnared him. In 36 B. C, Lepidus, dissatisfied 
with the small share he received in the distribution of provinces, 
ventured to make war on Octavius, and was easily overthrown. 
Then Antony made a terrible failure of the war with the Par- 
thians, and exasperated Rome by hurrying back to his Egyptian 
mistress, and deserting his noble-born wife, Octavia. Open 
rupture was announced between Octavius and himself. Antony 
was denounced as an enemy to the commonwealth, and the 
betrayal of his will to Octavius enabled the latter to convince 
the Senate and the people that, aided by the powerful navy of 
Cleopatra, the " renegade imperator " proposed to conquer 
Rome, remove the capital to Alexandria, and make his enchant- 
ress mistress of the world. The war that instantly broke out 
was short and sharp, terminated by the great naval battle of Ac- 
tium on September 2d, 31 B. C. Antony and Cleopatra fled in 
disgrace, speedily dying self-inflicted deaths ; and Octavius was 
left sole ruler of Rome and all that was Roman. Founder of 
the empire, he now became Augustus Caesar. 




CHALONS. 

451 A. D. 

HE Christian era opened with a terrible hu- 
miliation for Rome. Oppressed and bur- 
dened beyond endurance, the Germans rose 
against her, and in a most bloody and de- 
cisive battle the legions of Varus were com- 
pletely annihilated by the hordes of Ar- 
minius, in the thick forests still known as 
the Teutobergerwald. The Romans were 
surrounded and slowly slaughtered, and, from 
a military standpoint, the battle can only be 
described as a massacre. 

In the year 43 Rome began the conquest of Britain, and at 
the same time kept up her vast armies in Asia, destroying Jeru- 
salem in 70, and then, while Trajan was emperor, extending her 
conquests away beyond the Euphrates. A century later she 
fought a long and desperate war against the Germans, finally 
subduing them. In the year 250 her provinces were invaded by 
the Goths, and civil and foreign wars were incessantly sapping 
her strength. The first Christian emperor, Constantine, re- 
united the empire in 324, and moved the capital, the seat of the 
Roman empire, to Constantinople, in 330. Then, in 395, came 
the revolt of the Goths, and, in 410, the capture of Rome itself, 
by Alaric. 

Battle after battle was fought in these four centuries, but space 

limits us to the description of those presenting notable military 

or historical features, and thus we are brought to the year 45 1 

and "The battle of the people," at Chalons-sur-Marne, France. 

Rome had virtually finished her work of receiving and trans* 

(172) 



CHARACTER OF ATTILA. J 73 

mitting the civilization of Greece, and under her protection the 
Christian rehgion was now recognized throughout her provinces, 
but Rome herself was on the decline. By the middle of the 
fifth century Germanic nations had settled the Roman provinces 
north of the Mediterranean. The Visigoths held northern Spain 
and all France below the Loire ; the Suevi, southern Spain ; the 
Burgundians, Franks, Alemanni and Alans, other portions of 
Gaul; the Ostrogoths, the country just to the north of Italy; 
and of all these the Visigoths, under King Theodoric, were tha 
foremost in power and civilization. 

Against them came the Huns — a race wild, savage and appa- 
rently countless, that swept into Europe from the East about 
the year 375, and conquered everything before them until they 
reached the thickly populated tracts of Western Europe. Roman 
armies even tried to check them and were overwhelmed. Tribes 
and cities went down before them, and now, with Hungary as 
their seat of government, and with their renowned leader, Attila, 
at their head, they threatened to sweep the Germanic nations 
into the sea. 

Attila is described by historians as a man of unusual power 
and influence. Hideously ugly in person, he had nevertheless 
unbounded command over friends and foes, and the military 
skill of Alexander. He was austere, sober, just and deliberate, 
gave protection to all subjects and a war of extermination to all 
who resisted him. His soldiers followed him as they would a 
god. He called himself "Attila, Descendant of the Great Nim- 
rod. Nurtured in Engaddi. By the Grace of God, King of the 
Huns, the Goths, the Danes, and the Medes. The dread of the 
World." He ruled the immense country north of the Danube ; 
the Black Sea, east of the Caucasus, and in 445 he founded the 
city of Buda, on the Danube, as his capital. 

Rome was greatly alarmed at his wonderful march of con- 
quest westward, and strove to form a stronger alliance with the 
Germanic tribes against him. The Visigoths under King Theo- 
doric were quick to respond. Attila had just completed the 
punishment of some of the Eastern Roman provinces for a rebel- 
lion against him, said to have been inspired at Constantinople; 



174 CHALONS. 

and now, in 450 A. D., he only needed a pretense to make war 
on Western Europe. It soon came. Honoria, sister of Valen- 
tinian, Emperor of the West, sent, offering to marry him. The 
offer was probably inspired by hatred of her brother and some 
of her people, but it was discovered, and she was imprisoned 
and closely guarded. Attila announced his determination of 
compelling Rome to free his intended bride; and, securing the 
allegiance of the Franks on the lower Rhine, he marched west- 
ward, crossed the river near Coblentz with a total strength of 
700,000 fighting men, met and badly whipped the Burgundians, 
who strove to make a stand against him, and was speedily in 
France. 

Sending a strong column northwest to destroy the cities and 
subdue the people in Northern Gaul, he himself, with the main 
army, pushed up the valley of the Moselle toward the southwest, 
destroying the towns of the Burgundians ; and Eastern Gaul 
being thus speedily brought to terms, he prepared to move west- 
ward, cross the river Loire, and descend upon the Gothic terri- 
tory toward the Bay of Biscay. 

In his way, however, stood the fortified city of Orleans, on 
the right bank of the Loire, and here at last he met vigorous re- 
sistance. All along the stream, too, his attempts to cross were 
frustrated by the energy of the Roman general, Aetius, and his 
ally, King Theodoric, who were also busily recruiting their 
armie.s to make a stand against the Huns. Aetius spared no 
able-bodied man. All were forced to enlist under the Roman 
standard, and Theodoric, for his part, was no less active. Orleans 
bravely held out, and, before he could prevent it, Attila found 
that Aetius and Theodoric were united and marching north- 
ward against him with an army as great as his entire force, now 
much scattered. 

Quickly he abandoned the siege, fell back to Chalons, on the 
Marne, and called in his outlying troops, and on the broad, open 
plain, near where the little villages of Chape and Cuperly now 
stand, he built a great intrenchment to surround his camp, and 
confidently awaited the coming of the southern allies. It was, 
of all others, the very place where his strongest arm, the cavalry, 
would be most effective. 




THE HUNS. (A. DeNeuville.\ 



A BLOODY CONFLICT BEGINS. 175 

The grand army of allied Romans and Visigoths speedily 
made its appearance. By this time it was probably much larger 
than that of Attila. Aetius with the legions held the right; 
Theodoric the left ; and the centre, which was somewhat ad- 
vanced, was placed under the King of the Alans, Sangipan by 
name, who was suspected by both Theodoric and Aetius of being 
lukewarm .to the cause. Opposite them were ranged the wild 
forces of Attila ; he himself commanding his centre, while the 
Ostrogoths and other conquered subjects were placed on the 
flanks. Roman Aetius was a veteran soldier, and well knowing 
the importance of seizing any rising ground as a protection 
against cavalry attack, he had skillfully managed to secure and 
hold some abrupt slopes that really overlooked, if not com- 
manded, the left flank of the Huns — a fact that, most unaccount- 
ably, Attila had not properly appreciated. History is very silent 
about the affair, but it is a fair presumption that he had directed 
its occupation and that the order was not promptly obeyed. At 
all events, he appears to have been enraged .at the discovery of 
its occupation by the Romans, and the battle began there on the 
instant. 

So determined was Attila to recover at once the advantage 
the position on the slopes would give him, that he detached 
some of the best troops from his centre and launched them in 
with his entire left in a furious assault on the Roman lines along 
the crest. A bloody and determined conflict began, the Huns 
fighting up-hill with wild enthusiasm and confidence, but falling 
like sheep before the heavily armored ranks of the Itgions. 
When fully a third of their number were killed or wounded and 
the ground was fairly covered with their prostrate bodies, the 
Huns began to show some faint signs of wavering. Then it was 
that Aetius gave the signal to charge, and with one mighty im- 
pulse the Romans surged forward, sweeping all before them down 
the hillside. Almost at the same time Theodoric with the brave 
Visigoths darted forward in an impetuous rush upon the Ostro- 
goths on the extreme right of Attila's lines. These latter were 
far from having heart in the fight ; were simply enforced levies ; 
their sympathy could hardly have been with their half-savage 
13 



176 CHALONS. 

conquerors, and their resistance was but feeble. Nevertheless, 
for a time they stood their ground, and one ill-fated javelin, 
thrown perhaps at random, struck down gallant King Theodoric 
as he charged at the head of his cavalry. He fell beneath the 
thundering hoofs of his squadrons and was trampled to death 
in the instant of victory. Learning even in the heat of battle 
of their great loss, the Visigoths with redoubled fury drove the 
opposing right in headlong confusion from the field, and then 
turned as one man and charged the Hunnish centre now locked 
in combat with the Alans. 

Attila quickly saw his peril, and ordered his centre to fall back 
face to the foe until they reached the intrenchments. There had 
been terrible slaughter on his left along the contested slope, and 
though his centre could easily have overthrown that of the allies, 
he plainly saw that with his left wing badly crippled and his right 
wing utterly gone, the open plain was no longer to be thought 
of Back went the struggling Huns, amazed and discomfited at 
an experience so new to them, and the withdrawal of the centre 
was accomplished in safety. Once more Attila was enabled to 
reform his lines with his archers well protected by earthworks 
and the rows of wagons. 

For some strange reason Aetius, after beating back the fierce 
attack upon the slopes, called off his men and prohibited the 
pursuit they were so eager to engage in. Had the Romans 
followed up their advantage there, it is probable that the camp 
itself would have been in their hands before nightfall and the 
victory far more decisive than it was ; but he held aloof Attila 
succeeded in reassembling his centre and what remained of his 
left wing, and night put an end to further operations for the time 
being. His retreat, if it could be so called, was effected in ad- 
mirable order, and, though pursued and hounded all the way, 
the centre preserved its resolute front, and, once within the 
lines of intrenchments, their bowmen proved too dangerous for 
further attack. 

All the same, Attila was wofully depressed. His losses had 
been terrible, and he confidentlj' expected that with the rising 
sun his enemies would make a sjrand and united attack which it 



ATTILA'S RETREAT— HIS DEATH. 177 

might be impossible to resist. He would fight to the last, but 
in his desperation he resolved not to be taken alive, nor to per- 
mit the foe to realize anything valuable in the way of spoil. 
So during the long night, while his officers were posting the 
best archers along the front of the lines and making every 
preparation for stout defence, he caused a great mound to be 
made of the wooden saddles of his cavalry ; round it he heaped 
the plunder and treasure he had won ; on it were placed his 
wives, who happened to be with the army, and he himself took 
his station there. It was to be his funeral pyre should the allies 
successfully storm the camp. 

But the allies did not attack. Morning revealed the plain 
covered for miles with dead and dying, but the lines of Rome 
and Gaul had not advanced. It is said that Aetius refused to 
complete the work of the day before, because he knew that an 
overwhelming rout and slaughter of the Huns would so elate his 
allies, the Visigoths, that they might renounce their allegiance 
to Rome entirely and declare their independence of Roman rule, 
since they had shown how valiantly they could hold their own in 
battle. Be this as it may, Aetius persuaded young King Thoris- 
niund, who had just succeeded Theodoric, his father, that it 
would be best to leave things as they were and return to his 
capital. Molested no further, but terribly shattered and beaten, 
Attila was allowed to retreat from France. He died two years 
after Chalons, and his great empire fell to pieces with his death. 
The Huns were no longer the terror and scourge of Westerr 
Europe. 



TOURS. 




732 A. D. 

OR years after Chalons great changes were 
taking place-in Christendom. The Roman 
Empire died out in the West. The Saxons 
and Angles conquered Britain. Italy and 
Northern Africa were for a time added to 
the Roman Empire of the East. Wars 
were vigorously carried on between the 
Emperors of Constantinople and the Kings 
of Persia well into the seventh century. 
Then came the era of Mohammed and the Hegira, in 622. 
Then Mohammed conquered Arabia, and during the remainder 
of the century the Mohammedan Arabs, gaining constantly in 
strength and confidence, invaded first Persia, then conquered 
Syria, Egypt and Africa ; and early in the eighth century, from 
707 to 713, they had crossed the straits of Gibraltar, and were 
battling and conquering all' over Spain. 

The Germanic conquerors of Rome had, three centuries 
before this, fallen back across the Rhine, never to return. A 
French monarchy had been founded in Gaul by King Clovis, 
and for three hundred years it had struggled on. Now, the 
peace, prosperity and the hopes of Christian France were threat- 
ened by this advancing wave of followers of the pagan prophet. 
Everj'where, from the south of Gaul, along Africa, Egypt, Ara- 
bia, Syria, far to Eastern Persia, everywhere, from the Pyrenees 
to the Himalayas, the name of Mohammed was worshipped, and 
his Koran was the law. 

And now, with a veteran and united army, thoroughly disci- 
plined and equipped, these determined Saracens had planted 
(178) 



CROSSING THE PYRENEES. 179 

their magazines along the frontier and with stores in abundance, 
with every advantage in tlieir favor, they were about to cross 
the Pyrenees and attempt the conquest of Gaul. From Persia 
to Spain the Caliph was the supreme power, and him the Mos- 
lems obeyed unhesitatingly; and his trusted general, Abderrah- 
man Abdillah Alghafeki, was governor in Spain and com- 
mander of the army of occupation. Abderrahman was the hero 
of the Saracen soldiery, a tried leader, a generous and zealous 
man, and it was with unbounded confidence that the}' prepared 
to follow him across the mountains to the plains of Southern 
France. 

In the summer of 732, at the head of 80,000 soldiers, among 
whom were some admirable Arabian cavalry, Abderrahman 
crossed the Pyrenees as Hannibal had crossed them ten centu- 
ries before, and swooped down upon the cities and towns that 
lay before him. France had no army with which to successfully 
oppose him. Count Eudes, of Aquitaine, strove to check him 
on the Garonne, but was beaten with great loss, and beyond 
doubt the Mohammedan invasion of France would have been a 
complete success, had the leading men not promptly called to 
their aid Prince Charles, of the Austrasian Franks, over near the 
Rhine ; and this Charles, surnamed Martel (^the Hammer), lost 
no time in pushing forward with his irregular cavalry to join 
forces with his western neighbors, and, just one hundred years 
after the death of Mohammed, the followers of the prophet were 
met and overthrown in " the deadly battle " of Tours. 

More than one great fight has taken place in the beautiful 
valley of the Loire, but none has the historic interest which 
centres in this. Great, decisive and important as was the anni- 
hilation of the legions of Varus by the German Arminius, the 
victory of Charles Martel over the Saracens at Tours outrivalled 
it in national consequence. Doctor Arnold, the eminent Eng- 
lish writer of history, regards the latter as the most important 
and decisive of the middle ages. It was the check to Moham- 
medan invasion, without which Southwestern Europe would 
have been overrun as was Southeastern, where, to this day, the 
descendants of the Saracens are the rulers of Turkey, the hold 



180 TOURS. 

ers of the great city which Napoleon described as " the Empire 
of the World." 

Charles Martel had no standing army, but years of warfare 
had skilled his hand and eye, and given strength to his own 
high courage. He organized a large force of militia among the 
Franks, and brought with him, to the rescue of his kinsmen, a 
considerable body of horse and foot from along the Rhine. 
Just how many men he could muster nobody seems to know. 
The historians of that day were the old monks, who wrote very 
vaguely when it came to describing military matters, nor were 
the accounts on the Saracen side any more complete. 

From all obtainable sources it would seem that, after crossing 
the Pyrenees and defeating Count Eumenes on the Garonne, the 
80,000 soldiery of Abderrahman scattered over the level plains 
of France, robbing, burning and destroying in a most ruthless 
manner. It is related by the monks that so sure were they of 
success and of subduing the whole country, that it appeared 
as though this Moslem army of occupation had come to stay 
permanently, for they brought with them their wives and chil- 
dren, flocks and herds, and all their belongings. It was an in- 
vasion with a purpose. 

i Abdurrahman had obtained accurate information as to the real 
inhabitants, their means of defence, etc., and knew that from 
them he had nothing to dread. Of Charles Martel and the 
possibility of interference where he was concerned, he had appa- 
rently little idea. His army was allowed to scatter in every 
direction over the broad, fertile valleys, and in so doing they 
became necessarily disorganized, and lost much of their disci- 
pline. ( Their Berber or Arabian light cavalry committed terri- 
ble ravages throughout the land, and the bitterest hatred sprang 
up against them. Whatever the Franks were lacking in warlike 
instruction they soon made up in eager daring ; and, taking ad- 
vantage of their ardor and the scattered condition of the Sara- 
cens, Martel probably wisely chose to strike hard and quick, 
without even waiting to organize and discipline his volunteers. 

The armies met near the city of Tours, on the broad river 
Loire. The invaders had already assaulted the walls and were 



TACTICS OF CHARLES MARTEL. IgJ 

carrying everything before them — even committing the greatest 
excesses and crimes. While thus plunder-laden, and scattered 
and disordered, the army of Martel marched steadily down upon 
them. Abderrahman hastily recalled his forces and strove to 
form lines, and several days of indecisive skirmishing passed by. 
His Arabian cavalry, always ready and daring, opened the real 
battle on the 3d of October, charging again and again upon the 
sturdily advancing lines of the Franks, inflicting great losses but 
suffering severely on their own side. Martel had but few horse- 
men to oppose to such trained riders as these, and for some time 
it seemed as though their wild attacks must succeed in wearing 
out the firmness of the soldiers of Gaul, unused as they had long 
been to anything like warfare ; but Martel was spirited, hopeful 
and energetic, fighting cautiously but bravely, and when at last 
the day was done he had succeeded in engaging the entire 
host of Abderrahman; had compelled him to abandon the assault 
of the city in the moment of triumph, and in holding his own 
position intact against the furious charges of the enemy. The 
first day closed decidedly in his favor, and Abderrahman was 
driven into his camp, to the south towards Poictiers. 

But the battle was not yet won. At the first gray of dawn 
the Moslem cavalry were at them again, but now the awe they 
had inspired in the breasts of the simple-minded peasantry had 
disappeared. The Franks had gained great confidence, and not 
only repulsed the charges with heavy loss, but soon began to 
press the squadrons in retreat and force them in turn. It so 
happened therefore that a cry went up that the camp in rear of 
Abderrahman's lines was being attacked, and all the plunder 
would be recaptured. This added to the unsteadiness of the 
troops already shaken by the determined stand of the Franks. 
Dozens of squadrons broke, galloping off to the rear under pre- 
tence of defending the camp. The lines of Abderrahman began 
to waver. He himself was quick to note it and to throw him- 
self into the thick of the fight, calling on all to stand by him ; 
but Martel, too, with a soldier's keen eye, had marked every 
symptom, and now at last ordered a general advance and charge 
upon the Saracens. With one simultaneous impulse the Frank- 



182 TOURS. 

ish army swept forward ; Abderrahman, fighting like a lion, was 
surrounded, hewed down and pierced by a dozen spears. Then 
indeed the demoralized army could stand it no longer and broke 
and fled closely and vehemently pursued. Martel, like Csesar, 
gave no rest to beaten foe ; no time to rally and try it again. 
Everywhere the Moslems were cut down and slaughtered, for 
no mercy was shown to those who had been so unmerciful, and 
the carnage during that long afternoon of pursuit was something 
indescribable. One writer of the day asserts that over 300,000 
Saracens were slain, and that the loss of Charles Martel did not 
exceed 1,000, but the statements both ways are unreliable. 
Only 80,000 fighting men, according to Saracen chronicles, were 
in the army, though the monks always claimed that several 
hundred thousand were north of the Pyrenees. Certain it is 
that the army was annihilated, the leader killed, and" the plun- 
der recaptured. Their own writers speak of their defeat as a 
most " disgraceful overthrow," and it is reasonable to suppose 
that Martel had accomplished his victory with an inferior 
force. 

' The battle of Tours freed Gaul at once from further assault 
for a long time to come. It is true that the Saracens made one 
more effort to invade France by moving up the valley of the 
Rhone, but the attempt was speedily and sharply checked. The 
death of Charles left his sons, Carloman and Pepin, to divide 
the Prankish empire, but the latter soon assumed the title of 
king, became possessed of the whole of France, and, when he in 
turn died, in 768, the kingdom was again divided between two 
sons, Carloman and Charles ; again the elder speedily died, leav- 
ing undivided sovereignty to the younger brother. When just 
twenty-eight years of age Charles, second son of Pepin, grandson 
of Charles Martel, became head of the whole empire of the west, 
and with wonderful skill, vigor and address extended its limits 
in every direction, building up a magnificent Christian empire 
that soon included Rome itself within its territory, and, in the 
year 800, he was solemnly crowned at St. Peter's Emperor of 
the Roman Empire of the West, and became to history Charles 
the Great — Charlemagne, 



HASTINGS. 




,HE battle of Tours had rid the Franks once 
and for all of the possibility of Saracen over- 
throw. The grand empire cf Charlemagne 
was founded on the victory won by his grand- 
father, Charles Martel, and yet no sooner had 
Charles the Great been called from earth 
than the disruption of that great empire be- 
gan. The kingdom of France was soon 
separated from Germany and Italy. Then 
France herself began to suffer from the incursions of a vigorous, 
hardy race, called the Northmen, Danes by birth, and for two 
centuries fleet after fleet of Scandinavians swept down upon the 
coasts of England, France and Spain, and in the year 91 1 Duke 
Rolla (Hrolf the Northman), with a powt-rful army of Scandi- 
navian warriors at his back, settled in the north of France, the 
province of Neustria having been ceded to them by the king as 
the price of a peaceful future. Intermarriages with the Frankish 
families soon followed, but these people of Duke Rolla became 
the ruling race in northern France, and their country became 
known as Normandy. 

Just such stalwart manhood and brawr^ and muscle as came 
in with these hardy adventurers was what was needed to develop 
a race of knights and soldiers in France such as had not been 
seen since the days of Caesar, and the warlike skill they brought 
with them, tempered by the polish of the Latin nations of the 
south, formed a combination of qualities that in one century had 
made the knights of Normandy renowned throughout Europe. 
Pilgrimages to the Holy Land of Palestine were then frequent, 

(183) 



184 HASTINGS. 

and Norman officers became known in Italy, speedily winnlngf 
a settlement of their own in Apulia and also in tlie island of 
Sicily. Meantime, across the channel, the Saxon line of kings 
was still filling the throne of England after the sons of the Danish 
King Canute had died out, and Edward the Confessor was ruler 
of the island. He had received his education in the court of 
Normandy, and was strongly imbued with Norman ideas. He 
well knew that under an old compact with King Hardicanute 
the Norsemen believed themselves entitled now to the crown of 
England, but so long as Duke Robert of Normandy was absent 
on his pilgrimage there was no probability of trouble arising, and 
when his son William rose to the dukedom in 1035. he was not 
in readiness to enforce any claim, nor did he in any way actively 
interfere when Edward, his kinsman, came to the fore as the 
successor of the Canutes in 1041. 

But Edward the Confessor was childless, and three powerful 
rivals made preparations to seize the throne when his death 
should leave it vacant. For the time being all eyes were on 
England. The rivals were : first, a foreign prince from the 
north; second, a foreign prince from the south; third, an English- 
born prince — a hero of the people. 

Harald Hardrata of Norway was the first ; William of Nor- 
mandy the second ; Harold the Saxon was the third. It is said 
by historians that the interest of the great contest was greatly 
enhanced by the prominence and character of these three rivals, 
all champions of their respective races. The prize was a noble 
one, the struggle gallant in the last degree. 

Shortly before the death of Edward the Confessor, Harold 
had been induced to visit Normandy as the ostensible guest of 
Duke William. Harold was already proclaimed by the English 
people their choice for king when the now enfeebled Edward 
should die ; but Edward was suspected of leaning toward Nor- 
mandy and the claims, as he was known to admire the marked 
abilit)', of William. It may be that he actually played into the 
hand of Normandy and sent Harold thither. At all events, 
though treated as a guest, the young earl found himself actually 
a prisoner, and while there, in the presence of a crowded court, 



HAROLD DEFEATS lilE NORWEGIANS. 185 

William of Normandy extracted from the Saxon a solemn 
pledge to deliver up to him the throne of England on the death 
of Edward. Alone, defenceless, and believing his life endan- 
gered if he refused, Harold reluctantly gave the pledge, was 
then permitted to return to England, and on the 5th of January, 
1066, King Edward died, and the throne was vacant. 

The very next day all the noblts, " the thanes and prelates 
present in London," all the people within reach named Harold 
for king, and on the 7th of January, disregarding the oath ex- 
tracted from him by, as he claimed, violence and the fear of his 
life, the Saxon was duly anointed and crowned King of England. 

He was instantly assailed both from north and south. His 
renegade brother. Earl Tostig, urged on the preparations of 
King Harald Hardrata from the Norseland, and, though dwarfed 
by the importance and extent of the invasions of Duke William, 
the movement of the Norse king, almost at the same time, should 
never be forgotten in this connection. Even while Harold of 
England was throwing all his energies into the scheme for the 
defeat of the powerful Normans, now preparing to invade him 
from the channel, he learned that Harald of Norseland had landed 
at the far end of his kingdom. He had to drop everything on 
the channel shores and hasten to meet him. Two hundred war 
ships, three hundred transports and the best soldiery of Scan- 
dinavia came to back Harald Hardrata. Landing in Yorkshire 
and overthrowing the local forces, he conquered the city of York, 
and in an incredibly short time was master of all the country 
north of the Humber. But, quick as the news could reach King 
Harold in Sussex, he sped away northward, a valiant army with 
him, and, surprising the Norwegians by the rapidity of his 
march, he terribly defeated them at Stamford Bridge, September 
25th, 1066, Harald Hardrata and his noblest men going dowr 
before him. The battle and victory, splendid as it was, had been 
won, however, at great cost. Harold lost many excellent officers 
and men ; but, worst of all, William of Normandy, utterly unop- 
posed, had effected his landing on the Sussex shore 

Superb as was William's character as a soldier, he wa-^ a= can- 
summate a politician and statesman, iieiore entermg upou the 



186 HASTINGS. 

contest at all he had reminded Harold of his oath. Harold had 
replied that he could not lay down what was not his own — the 
will of his country. His royalty was the voice of his people. 
Even were it not, he argued, an enforced oath could not be bind- 
ing. The Norman first published his rival all over Europe as a 
perjurer; then, to fortify still more his position in public esteem, 
submitted the whole case to the Pope of Rome, who solemnly 
decided that England rightfully belonged to William, sent him a 
blessed banner to be borne in the van of his army, and bade him 
bring England to terms without delay. The superstitious rever- 
ence in which the Church of Rome was held was in itself an all- 
powerful ally to Duke William, but he neglected nothing. His 
preparations were complete. 

All the wealth of his dukedom, all the influence of his own 
powerful mind were thrown into the task of recruiting from the 
noblest classes the knighthood of his army. All the soldiers of 
fortune of the day hastened to fight under that consecrated ban- 
ner, and the very chivalry of Christendom crowded to his ranks, 
eager to be enrolled in so holy a cause under so renowned and 
brilliant a leader. 

All through the spring and summer the seaports, ship-yards 
and harbors of northern France were crowded with sailors and 
builders, with soldiers and knights. At last, late in August, the 
great armament was complete. Baffling winds delayed him 
for a time, but on the 29th of September, 1066, just after 
Harold's triumph at Stamford Bridge, William of Normandy, 
with 50,000 gallant knights and gentlemen and 10,000 soldiers 
of the line, effected his landing in Pevensey Bay, not far from 
the castle of Hastings. 

It was a desperate blow to Harold. He had been most ener- 
getic in his preparations, had organized a large army and a 
powerful fleet to defeat the threatened invasion, but both had 
been diverted at the critical moment. He was rejoicing in York 
when the bitter news reached him, but instantly retraced his 
steps, hurrying back to Sussex. The victory over the Nor- 
wegians had won him the enthusiastic devotion of all England. 
It was in his power to immediately enroll a large army. His 



WILLIAM OF NORMANDY LANDS. 187 

fleet was already numerous and powerful. From a strategical 
standpoint, now that William with 60,000 men had landed on his 
coast, the one thing for him to do to insure an overwhelming 
triumph was to withdraw the small force in southern England ; 
to tempt the Normans toward London ; to leave to his seamen 
the duty of cutting off all thetr supplies or reinforcements from 
France; then to surround the invaders with the overwhelming 
force he could bring to bear and crush them out of existence. 
But — Harold was soft-hearted. He could not bear to lay open 
the lands of southern England even temporarily to the plunder- 
ing hands of the invaders. He stopped in London only long 
enough to give orders for the assembly of all his available troops 
in Sussex at once. He directed the fleet to rendezvous off the 
coast, and then pushed on. It may be that victory over the 
Norsemen had made him altogether too confident, but he showed 
the utmost eagerness to meet the southern invaders, and, in his 
haste, neglected many a valuable precaution. In William of Nor- 
mandy and his knights he was destined to meet foemen full as 
brave as, but far more skillful and far more wary and cautious 
than, the rude soldiery of Harald of the Norseland. 

The landing of William of Normandy had been accomplished 
under auspices that were wonderfully favorable. The breeze 
was light and soft. The sea smooth and still. The ships were 
easily beached, and then the Norman archers — they who were 
so soon to play the most important part in the struggle with 
England — " shaven and shorn, clad in short garments," stripped 
for the fight, so to speak, and carrying only their bows and full 
quivers, sprang into the summer surf, out over the smooth, sandy 
shore and well to the front. A strong skirmish line of several 
thousand expert bowmen covered the whole movement, and 
secured the army of the Normans against surprise. Then came 
the landing of the mail-clad knights and their chargers. Many 
must have gone to fight on foot until the fortune of war should 
provide them with mounts, for though he had 50,000 gallant 
knights and gentlemen Duke William could not begin to 
muster ships enough to transport horses for that many. But 
enough horsemen there were to make a stout array, and with 



188 Hastings. 

lances in hand they too rode forward to meet any foe that might 
appear, while the disembarkation went uninterruptedly on. 

Three wooden castles, in pieces, had been carefully prepared 
in France. These too were brought ashore. One was immedi- 
ately set up on good high ground. Stores and provisions wexC- 
safely landed; and the long projected invasion was an accom- 
plished fact. 

As Duke William himself sprang from his boat to the sands a 
singular thing occurred. He slipped, and fell heavily forward 
upon his breast and hands. Superstition was rife in those daj-s, 
and a cry of "bad omen " went up; but he sprang to his feet, 
holding high his hands, tightly grasping the dripping sands of 
the seashore, and called out so that all could hear, " See, my 
lords, by the splendor of God ! I have taken possession of Eng- 
land with both my hands," and his presence of mind and ready 
wit revived their spirits. There was no more thought of evil 
omen. 

Protected by strong outposts of archers and cavalry the Nor- 
man army spent its first night on English soil in peace ; moved 
eastward the next day towards Hastings, set up the other two 
castles and prepared a strongly fortified camp. Meantime, how- 
ever, Duke William sent his cavalry well out northward toward 
London, to watch for every movement of the enemy, while his 
foragers swept over the country, bringing in provisions, cattle, 
anything useful they could lay hand upon. Harold had hoped 
to surprise the Normans as he had the Norwegians, but found 
himself utterly mistaken. Their cavalry kept watch over his 
every movement, and, seeing this, he simply contented himself 
with driving them in towards their main body, and then, with 
what force he had, halting about seven miles from the Norman 
camp. 

His force was inferior to that of William. Again the policy 
was urged upon him of falling back towards London, destroying 
the crops and provisions as he went. This would soon have had 
disastrous effect upon the foreigners, who, cut off from reinforce- 
ments or supplies by the English fleet, would have starved, or 
fallen victims to the masses of volunteers that were ready to 



POSITION AND EQUIPMENTS OF THE SAXONS. 1^9 

flock to the standard of King Harold. But he was determined 
and eager for a fight. His brothers, Gurth and Leofwine, then 
urged him to take no personal part in the combat, but to let 
those who loved fight for him and their common country. This, 
too, he rejected, declaring that no man should say that he forced 
his friends to fight where he himself shared not every danger. 
This point settled, he chose his battle-ground, and chose it with 
great skill, for he knew that his antagonist would be forced to 
attack him. 

Some eight miles back of Hastings, where the ruins of Battle 
Abbey now stand, was a little place then called Senlac. Here, 
on a wooded ridge with open slopes towards the south, Harold 
established his lines, and covered his entire front with a stout 
palisade of stakes, shields, osier hurdles and wattles, a compact 
earth-and-basket-work that made a capital rampart. Back of 
the ridge were thick woods, and on the one flank which was 
open he caused a deep ditch to be dug from north to south as a 
protection against cavalry attack from that side ; for it was the 
large force of knights and mounted men-at-arms that Harold 
had most reason to dread. 

Here behind these intrenchments the English army, hurriedly 
summoned from all over the kingdom south of the Humber, 
gathered in loyalty to their new sovereign and to their native land. 
Those from the cities were well armed, as were the earls and 
barons with their retainers, but there were large numbers of 
peasantry who had nothing better than clubs, picks, iron forks 
and the like. The nobles and the better classes of the soldiery 
wore helmets with hanging capes that fell upon the shoulders 
and protected the throat and neck. Their bodies were clad in 
the stiff and heavy hauberks then in use by nearly all practised 
soldiers, and all carried stout shields. Their weapons were 
sharp lances, "bills" (not unlike the modern bill-hook in shape 
but much heavier and larger), and many carried massive battle- 
axes and maces. These were the arms of the nobles and some 
of the veteran soldiers, but in addition there was a strong force 
of bowmen. 

On the other side, the knights and nobles of the Normans 



190 HASTINGS. 

were superbly mounted, their horses and themselves to a cer- 
tain extent covered with an armor impenetrable to lance or arrow. 
The knights wore massive helmets, hauberks, and boots of metal; 
all carried shields, each with his own device or "cognizance" 
emblazoned thereon, by which they might be known to one 
another in battle. Their arms were lances, long swords, maces 
and some carried the battle-axes. Among' the footmen defen- 
sive armor was little worn except the shield, though many had 
bound hides upon their breasts and legs. All were expert archers, 
and in addition to their bows were armed with short swords. 
Such were the forces of England and France facing one another 
on the southern shores of Sussex early in October, 1066. 

But though he sought and desired an immediate and decisive 
battle, Duke William again made propositions to Harold, all of 
which were promptly declined. The latter well knew that the 
price which William was to pay his vassals for their assistance 
was the division of all England into estates for their benefit. 
He felt assured that were he to abdicate now he could not save 
his kingdom from pillage. He determined to fight to the last, 
and, despite his smaller force, was hopeful as to the result. In- 
deed his nobles were of the same opinion : " Our lands, our 
homes, our wives and daughters are promised to these invading 
knights. They come to ruin not only us but our descendants." 
This was the universal voice of Harold's army, and the English 
swore to make no terms, no truce, but to drive out the Normans 
or die in trying. 

And now all knew that there could be no further postpone- 
ment of the battle. That night the Saxons spent around their 
camp-fires carousing and singing; but the Normans looked well 
to their horses and arms, confessed themselves to their priests, 
and partook of the holy sacrament. They believed that the 
blessing of heaven rested with them ; that the banner of Rome, 
the symbol of their holy church, gave to their invasion all the 
sacred character of a religious war, and their ceremonies were 
conducted with full hearts and utter solemnity. 

At daybreak on Saturday, October 14th, both camps were 
speedily awake and active ; but, beyond doubt, the Normans 




EDITH FINDING THE BODY OF 



F HAROLD AFTEU THE BATTLE OP HASTINGS. {A. de NcUvUle.) 



COMPOSITION OF THE NORMANS. 191 

were fresher and in better condition for the fight than their 
Saxon antagonists. Once more the priests assembled the 
knights and soldiery who bore the banner of the pope. Sol- 
emn masses were sung, and now, assured of victory, -the men 
are gathering around their leaders and receiving brief exhorta- 
tions as to the duties expected of them. The nobles are all 
assembled at the tent of Duke William, where he has explained 
in detail his plan of attack, and is now adding some ringing 
words of encouragement and cheer. He is all serenity and con- 
fidence. " I have no doubt of victory ; we are come for glory ; 
the victory is in our hands, and we may make sure of obtaining 
it if we so please." 

With that he orders them to go and arm themselves, and one 
and all the barons and knights withdraw. Half an hour more 
and, in superb array, the army of France marched forth upon 
the green slopes of peaceful Sussex. 

Duke William had divided his force into three grand divi- 
sions. On one side were arrayed " the men of Boilogne and 
Poix, and all my soldiers," as the leader had designated them, 
under command of Roger de Montgomeri. On the other, " the 
Poitevins and the Bretons, and all the barons of Maine," led by 
Alain Fergert and Ameri. In the centre, where the hardest 
fighting was expected, and where the consecrated banner waved 
aloft, rode Duke William himself with " his own great men, his 
friends and kindred." The best blood of France, the best blood 
of the young nobility of every court in Christendom followed 
the banner of the church that day, and well might Harold say, 
" Those whom you see in such numbers are not priests, but 
stout soldiers, as they will soon make us feel." 

William's superiority was in cavalry, and, knowing this, Har- 
old's plan of intrenching his position and fighting on the defen- 
sive was capital. But, leading the Norman horsemen, marching 
gallantly forward towards the high palisade, came ranks of Nor- 
man archers, and by these the battle is begun. With loud blare 
of horn, bugle and trumpet; with ringing vi'ar-cry and half- 
savage, answering yell, the combatants open fire with theii" 
arrows. In a moment the air is dark with the flying missiles, 
13 



192 HASTINGS. 

But the Norman lines never halt. Pressing vigorously for- 
ward they reach and spring upon the palisading, and there the 
ranks of France and England clash together. Instantly lance, 
spear, sword, axe and arrow are plying their deadly work, and, 
in the midst of most terrific din and clangor, the battle of Hast- 
ings has fairly opened. 

A little in rear of the centre of the English lines, on a rising 
hillock, has been planted a gorgeous standard, rich with gold 
and gems. Here, when all was ready. King Harold had placed 
himself with his brothers Gurth and Leofwine, and his noble 
body-guard. From here he had closely watched the Norman 
army as it came up from the south and deployed before his eyes. 
Many of the knights anJ nobles he was able to recognize and 
to point out to his attendants. Despite his bravery and hope, 
he well knew that a desperate fight was before him. " Keep to- 
gether," he urged his barons, "all is lost if once they penetrate 
our ranks ; cleave wherever you can. It will be ill done if you 
spare aught." 

It was just about nine o'clock in the morning, when the 
French Knight " Taillefer," urging and receiving permission 
from Duke William, dashed out ahead of the advancing lines of 
France, and bending low upon his saddle-bow, with couched 
lance, came charging down upon the very centre of the Saxon 
spearmen at the palisade. He singled out his victim, drove his 
lance through and through, then drawing sword, dared the de- 
fenders to attack him. In an instant he was hurled from his 
horse and killed. Then came the simultaneous dash of the 
archers, and now, all along the line of palisading, the battle is 
fierce — a hand-to-hand conflict, fought with the utmost despera- 
tion and gallantry. The mail-clad knights of Normandy are at 
once seen to have a great advantage. With their heavy maces 
they batter down portions of the palisade, though many receive 
their death-wounds, and many a horse rolls over in agony in the 
attempt. Then in small bodies they charge at the gaps thus 
made, leap in upon the swordsmen and hew right and left, but 
nowhere does the English line give way. A strong body of 
Norman horse has swept around the flank and, despite the ditch, 



HAROLD SEVERELY WOUNDED. J 93 

charged in upon the Saxons, but Harold quickly sends an active 
band to assail them in turn and, with bloody loss on both sides, 
the Frenchmen are cut down, and the remnant forced back 
across the ditch again, and the ditch itself is speedily filled with 
bodies of the dead and dying. For hours an indescribable com- 
bat is carried on. In heat and dust and din of battle, taunts and 
jeers and war-cries that are unintelligible to one another except 
from accompanying pantomime, arrows and darts, stones and 
even swords are hurled at one another. A dozen times the 
palisade is carried, a dozen times the Normans are forced back, 
and for six terrible hours of this ebb and flow of battle-lines, of 
shouting, shrieking, cursing, struggling, the desperate combat 
goes on. Everywhere are deeds of knightly valor or stubborn 
plebeian courage to be noted. Even the good Bishop of Bayeux, 
seeing some of the Norman retainers taking to flight, first dashed 
in among to stop them, and then, with hauberk over his white 
canonicals and uplifted mace in hand, returned to the thickest 
of the fight, animating and directing the assaults of the knights. 
But the repulse of the Norman cavalry on the flank had been 
a severe disappointment. The superb and stubborn resistance 
of the Saxons was something that Duke William had not antici- 
pated. The day was on the decline. Three o'clock had come 
and gone, and still no man could say how the battle would end. 
For some time the Norman archers had been withdrawn as use- 
less. The English kept their shields well forward, and the 
light shafts glanced off harmlessly ; but suddenly an idea comes 
to William : " Shoot upwards, archers, that the arrows may fall 
in their faces." And now, from the heavens above, the keen 
missiles come raining down upon the thick, struggling masses 
of Saxon infantiy, and some, flying higher and dropping farther 
to the rear, find their way into the group around the priceless 
standard of England. Another minute and brave Harold him- 
self is stunned, blinded and sore-stricken. A shaft has sunk 
deep into his cheek, tearing out his eye in its course. He 
drags out the barbed arrow, then, bleeding, reeling and faint, 
leans his head upon his shield. He has seen the last of his 
devoted army. His sight is gone. 



194 HASTINGS. 

But, ignorant of the blow that had robbed them of their sov- 
ereign, the Saxons fought on. Even before the order had been 
given to the archers, the Norman leaders had resolved upon a 
plan to draw the English out of their works. The word was 
passed from mouth to mouth : " Fall back at the signal ; fall 
back, but be ready to turn again when they are scattered in pur- 
suit, well out on the slopes." And with that, slowly at first, 
then more hastily, as though in some disorder, the lines of 
France begin to retire. It is the same trick that Harold so suc- 
cessfully played upon the Norsemen at Stamford Bridge a month 
before, but he cannot see it now. He is not there to check the 
pursuit that almost instantly is taken up by the wild and un- 
manageable Saxons. Incredulous at first, they soon realize that 
the entire Norman force is surely falling back. Then, with 
raging taunts and shouts, with brandishing arms, forgetful of all 
order or discipline, over the works they go, and bound down 
the slopes in scattering chase. The solid ranks are broken. 
The one thing against which Harold warned them, and is now 
powerless either to see or prevent, has befallen them. And now 
the trumpets ring out the signal, " halt." The Norman knights 
and archers once more face the disordered foe ; then, with 
simultaneous impulse, bear down upon them in headlong im- 
pulse. This time there is no withstanding them. Back go the 
broken bands, closely followed by the horsemen of Normandy, 
and in five minutes more, what remains of the English army is 
grouped in solid mass on that bloody hillock where the great 
standard still waves, where, blind and bleeding, Harold still 
stands with hopeless sword ; where the men of Kent and Essex 
still confront the lances with undaunted breasts. But all is use- 
less now. Little by little, one by one, like the Spartans of 
Leonidas at Thermopylae, they fall around their leader, are 
trampled under foot and iron hoof; and, as the compact circle 
grows smaller and smaller, the surging throng of Norman as- 
sailants more numerous, the mail-clad knights force their way 
in towards the coveted standard, William himself being among 
the most daring and conspicuous, and by one of these King 
Harold himself is felled to earth, while another gives him his 



WILLIAM VICTORIOUS. 195 

death-wound as he struggles to his knee, at the foot of the flag 
he has so devotedly defended. The sun goes down upon a field 
that is one vast charnel-house ; upon an exhausted but victori- 
ous army on one side, upon the bleeding relics of their anni- 
hilated foemen on the other ; and Duke William of Normandy, 
winning the great and decisive battle of Hastings, wins for him- 
self the throne, for his nobles the broad lands of Merrie 
England. 

Harold, Gurth, Leofwine, all the noblest earls and barons of 
England, more than half the army, lay among the slain ; and 
yet so well had they fought, so savagely had Saxon battle-axe 
hewn its way through Norman helm and hauberk, that 20,000, 
one-fourth of the army of France, lay dead upon the nobly dis- 
puted field. 

Solemnly the victor celebrated his wonderful triumph. Secur- 
ing the rich standard of the royal Saxons, his first words were to 
vow the erection there where it stood of a holy abbey, where 
the prayers of the Church of Rome should ceaselessly be 
chanted for the souls of those who fell in the great victory. 
His own tent was set for the night amid the dead, upon the hill 
where Harold's standard had waved throughout the terrible 
day; and then, wearied and bruised, the victors slept upon the 
field. 

Among all the knights and nobles none had fought more 
gallantly than the great leader himself Two horses had been 
killed under him. Several foemen had fallen by his hand. His 
armor was hacked and battered in many places, and he had nar- 
rowly escaped mortal hurts. But William of Normandy, now 
become William the Conqueror, resumed, on the morrow, his 
triumphant march to London, and there, on Christmas day, was 
duly crowned King of England. 

The results of Hastings were many. An utterly new race of 
men, a fresh array of nobles and knights, became the rulers of 
the land. Bitter hatred for years existed against them on the 
part of the Saxons, and, in their disdainful pride, the conquerors 
made no effort to conciliate. The ancient constitution, the last 
of the Saxon kiags, the leaders of the Saxon nobility, all were 



196 HASTINGS. 

overthrown. The people of the land who, but a month before, 
were its sturdy owners, became little better than slaves of the 
new masters. The Saxon language was declared fit only for 
churls, Saxon customs for servants. All the high places in 
church or state were now filled by men of Roman or Norman 
selection. From Hastings until the signing of the Magna 
Charta, nearly a century and a half, Anglo-Norman and Anglo- 
Saxon held aloof from and hated one another ; but that charter, 
wrested from King John at Runnymede, became the font of 
English nationality, and from that time there was concert and 
harmony. 

But, bitter as had been the hatred, the Norman conquest was 
the making of England. A brave, chivalrous, warlike and 
vastly superior and intellectual race had, by Hastings, become 
rooted in the English soil. Their better qualities were marred 
by their many acts of cruelty and oppression, but to Norman 
blood and Norman brains the British Empire is this day in- 
debted, infinitely more than many of its people will admit or be- 
lieve. Speaking of the Normans, Campbell has dared to say, 
" They high-mettled the blood of our veins." Guizot declares 
that England's liberties are due to her conquestby the Normans. 
Lord Chatham eulogized the " iron barons " who were the build- 
ers of the great constitution, and who were Normans all ; and 
even the great English historian Gibbon, himself, has had the 
justice to say that "Assuredly England was a gainer by the 
Conquest." 




DEATH OF HAROLD AT HASTIN 



JERUSALEM. 



1099. 




TIE Saracens who had been driven out of 
France by the valor of Charles Martel were 
nevertheless masters of Africa from the Straits 
of Gibraltar to the Red Sea, and thence, east- 
ward, had swept over and subdued Asia as 
far as the Ganges. For years before the in- 
vasion of England by William the Conqueror, 
hundreds of high-born men, both of the clergy 
of the Church of Rome and nobles not of the 
priesthood, had been crowding each year eastward to pay their 
devotions at the sepulchre of Jesus Christ at Jerusalem. The 
influence of the church was never greater than in the eleventh 
and twelfth centuries. Rome had then no dissenters. Hers was 
the one recognized religion, and the fervor of her priesthood 
knew no bounds. So long as the Saracens themselves ruled in 
Syria and Palestine all went smoothly. The pilgrims to the 
shrine were favorably received, courteously treated, and en- 
couraged to come again or send others. The fact that each 
one was roundly taxed for the privilege, and required to pay very 
heavy duty on every relic he might carry away, is sufficient ex- 
planation of the fact. The pilgrims were a source of very con- 
siderable revenue to the Saracens. They did no possible harm, 
brought in much money, took away nothing but valueless palm 
branches or splinters of wood, relics for which they gave pre- 
posterous sums ; the Saracens were shrewd money-getters and 
quick to appreciate their advantage. They even took especial 
care of the sacred sepulchre, hunted up and preserved all pos- 
sible mementos of the pure and humble Saviour whom their 

(197) 



198 JERUSALEM. 

predecessors had crucified and scourged a thousand years 
before. The possession of Jerusalem within whose walls His 
youthful voice had so early astonished the elders and wise men; 
the Mount of Olives where the sweetest sermon ever preached 
"to mortal ears, fell from His gentle and loving lips; the stony 
height of blasted Calvary where in patient, uncomplaining agony 
His bitter torture was endured — all these were gold to the fol- 
lowers of the prophet, and for centuries the pious contributions 
of pilgrims and palmers might have continued to swell the 
Saracen treasury had not a sudden foe swept down upon and 
robbed them of Syria and Palestine. The Turcomans, a rude, 
half-savage tribe of Tartars, rushed over the boundaries and 
gained Jerusalem. 

These short-sighted marauders looked with jeering laughter 
at the prostration of the Western pilgrims before the shrine; 
then rudely hustled the Christians to one side and contemptu- 
ously overturned or defaced the sacred relics themselves. Then 
came systematic insult, robbery, extortion and outrage to the 
pilgrims, among whom even delicately nurtured women were 
now to be found ; and those who managed to escape hurried 
back to the seat of the Christian church at Rome and told their 
sorrowful story at the throne of the pope. 

The immediate cause of the ensuing wars was simply this. 
All Christendom was dismayed and outraged at the idea of 
leaving the holy sepulchre, the holy city, the holy land of Pales- 
tine which had been blessed by the teachings of the Saviour, in 
the possession of a set of infidel Turks who scoffed and derided 
the very mysteries which were held most sacred. There was no 
lack of faith in those days. Wherever the influence of the 
Church of Rome extended, the name of Jesus Christ was wor- 
shipped as that of the Son of God and the Saviour of mankind, 
and when hundreds of religious enthusiasts returned to Rome 
telling of the indignity with which they had been treated and 
the double outrage which had been heaped upon them simply 
because they were followers of Christ, it was an easy matter to 
rouse the religious fervor of an entire continent to the rescue of 
the relics deemed sacred beyond all price. It seem.ed as though 



PETER THE HERMIT APPEARS. 199 

the very hand of God pointed to Jerusalem demanding the 
banishment of every unbeliever from her walls, and the future 
protection and honor of the tomb of the beloved Son in whom 
rested the redemption of the world. 

Pope Gregory VII., when at the head of the church on earth, 
fired by holy zeal and a desire to make the cause supreme, had 
conceived the idea of making a grand union of Christianity 
against Mahometism. His unpopularity among the princes of 
the various nations stood in his way, however, and it was left for 
a very different man to assume the original leadership — Peter 
the Hermit. 

Originally a soldier, Peter of Amiens had become a recluse; 
had made the pilgrimage to Jerusalem ; had been a witness to 
the extortions, wrongs and indignities heaped upon his brethren 
I'n the faith, and, after consultation with Simeon, the patriarch 
of Jerusalem, he had returned and laid the matter before Pope 
Martin II. at Rome. Both he and Simeon implored earnest 
and united action. The pope was ready and willing. He sent 
Peter to the cities of Italy; convened a council at Placentia, which 
was attended by 4,000 ecclesiastics and 30,000 other persons, 
and which resulted in a declaration of war against the infidels of 
Jerusalem on the part of Italy. But greater force than Italy 
could raise would be needed. Peter went forward into France, 
exhorting, haranguing everywhere. A greater council was 
called and met at Clermont in Auvergne. Pope Martin himself 
went thither, and under the influence of his eloquence and th< 
fiery preachings of Peter the multitude burst forth into one 
unanimous appeal for war. " It is the will of God ! " and these 
words became the rallying cry on many a subsequent battle- 
field. 

The organization of the forces began at once. As a badge 
of their loyalty to the holy cause the volunteers, as they all were, 
adopted the cross itself, and this badge, displayed upon the 
right shoulder of their cloaks or the breasts of the armor, was 
henceforth the designation of their faith and their loyalty — Les 
croisis, the men of the cross, they called themselves, and their 
cause became — The Crusade. 



200 JERUSALEM. 

It was a time when the priests of the church had gained their 
greatest power over all classes. There was little restraint of 
either law or honor. Crime and disorder were rife, and the un- 
educated believed that expiation for any excess or outrage could 
be found in the observances of the church. A holy war meant 
universal absolution to those who engaged therein on the side 
of the Cross, and all over Western Europe thousands swarmed 
to the banners of the pope. It was the sure road to heaven. 
Nobles, workmen, peasants, priests, all came eagerly forward to 
swell the ranks. Even women, disguised in armor, obtained 
admission in the rapidly raised armies — so rapidly raised, in 
fact, that the numbers became troublesome ; and an advanced 
guard of 300,CX)0 men, led by Peter the Hermit and Walter the 
Moneyless, was ordered to push eastward through Germany, 
Hungary and Bulgaria. At first this large body of utterly un~ 
disciplined campaigners managed to subsist on the free-will 
offerings of the Germans and Hungarians ; but they soon took 
to plundering, then to besieging unprepared cities, and it then 
resulted that the nations attacked them in strong force, slew 
thousands among them, and only a badly shattered remnant 
succeeded in reaching Constantinople. Here, encouraged by 
the gifts of Alexis Comnenus, the emperor, some pressed for- 
ward across the Bosphorus. Others waited for the main bodies 
which, under experienced soldiers and in far better discipline, 
speedily followed the pioneers. It was not long before an army 
of 700,000 men, mainly from France and Germany, had assem- 
blt.d on the plains of Asia Minor ; but, before that took place, 
the eager advanced guard, under Peter the Hermit, had sus- 
tained terrible reverses at Nicaea, which subsequently became 
the scene of so severe a conflict. 

The great leaders of the First Crusade were Godfrey of 
Bouillon ; Hugh of Vermandois ; Raymond of Toulouse ; 
Stephen of Blois ; Tancred and the Dukes Robert of Nor- 
mandy and Flanders. The first-named followed with 80,000 
men, soon after the advance-guard of Peter the Hermit. He 
was the leader of the cavaliers of Europe. Godfrey, in 1096, 
took the same route as followed by Peter's rabble, but went 



GODFREY LEADS THE GRAND ASSAULT. 201 

through in admirable order and with the respect of the people 
whose countries he traversed. The Count of Vermandois took 
his followers by sea and met with shipwreck and misfortune. 
Raymond of Toulouse, Stephen of Blois, and Robert of Nor- 
mandy, all managed to lead their people across Europe into 
Asia Minor; and at last the junction of the forces was effected, 
and 700,000 soldiers of the Cross were gathered near Nicsea, the 
ancient capital of Bithynia. This city was only captured after a 
siege of two months. Then, fighting their way, the crusaders 
pushed on eastward, through Asia IMinor, until they came to 
Syria, and here, near the northern border, barring the way to 
Jerusalem, lay the walled city of Antioch, a fortress in itself 
A long, tedious and bloody siege detained them. They won the 
city, were besieged in turn, and finally gained a great victory 
over the Turks. They were delayed at Antioch a year ; and it 
was not until the 14th of July, 1099, that the crusaders were 
finally led by Godfrey of Bouillon to the great assault of 
Jerusalem. 

Over a month had been- spent in vigorous preparation, and 
some ill-directed attacks had been made, but the Genoese build- 
ers finally completed strong scaling-towers, to be run up against 
the solid walls ; and then, guided by their priesthood, the great 
army of the crusaders, with bared feet, made a circuit of the city, 
prostrating themselves at every place made sacred by the teach- 
ings or sufferings of their Saviour; their rage against the infidels 
being added to, every instant by the insults and abuse hurled at 
them from the walls. Then, early on the morning of July 14th, 
the attack began. 

It must be remembered that in the army of the crusaders no 
one knight or noble enjoyed supreme command. Any impor- 
tant move or enterprise was determined by a council of the 
leaders, and these leaders were many. Originally the Normans, 
Flemings and Italians, under Robert of Normandy, Robert of 
Flanders, and the brave and zealous Tancred took ground against 
the north walls of the city, investing the whole length of that 
front. Next to them, farther west, were the English, said to have 
been led by Edgar Atheling ; then the Bretons, under their duke. 



202 JERUSALEM. 

These seem to have fronted the walls of the northwest side, and 
close beside them, between the road leading to Joppa, on the 
sea-coast, and the great highway to Damascus, up the valley, 
Godfrey of Bouillon and Baldwin du Bourg had encamped 
their followers. Here, if anywhere, could be said to be the 
head-quarters of the siege, as to the south of their camp, and 
investing the city from the west, were the crusaders of Toulouse, 
and the men of Orange and Beam. The eastern and southern 
fronts had not been formally besieged, the deep valleys there 
lying being regarded as obstacles. 

But the infidels of Jerusalem had been as active as their 
assailants. They, too, had been preparing engines of war, and 
all manner of devices for resisting attack. The north and west 
walls were greatly strengthened, and, at the last moment, the 
plans of the besiegers were changed. The two Dukes Robert 
and their associate, Tancred, moved over to the eastward, be- 
tween the gate of Damascus and the tall angular stone structure 
soon to be known as Tancred's Tower. Godfrey of Bouillon 
marched his men opposite the gate of Cedar, and, in the dark- 
ness of night, all their machines of war, even two huge towers, 
had been dragged over to the new positions with them. Duke 
Raymond, too, had swung round so as to assault from the south; 
and, at the first dawn of day, the defenders of the city were 
aghast to see that now they were threatened at entirely unex- 
pected and almost unprepared points. 

There were natural defences on their side, however. Deep 
ravines lay under the southern walls, supplying the place of a 
moat or ditch, which, had one been dug around the entire city, 
would have vastly added to the difficulties of the siege. By in- 
credible labor, however, the crusaders filled up a part of the 
ravine with stones, and, by working day and night for forty- 
eight hours, succeeded in running the towers close to the walls. 
Then all was ready for assault. The sun was not up on the 
. morning of that memorable Thursday, the 14th of July, when 
Godfrey of Bouillon, with his brother Eustache, and Baldwin 
du Bourg took station on the highest platform of his tower, sur- 
rounded by a score of armed and eager knights, and gave the 
signal to begin. 



ENTHUSIASM OF THE BESIEGERS. 203 

Instantly from every tower, from all over the dry, parched, 
desolate slopes around the holy city, the clarions and trumpets 
rang out their loud peal, and the voices of thousands of stalwart 
men joined in mighty chorus. On the south, east and north of 
the city the three massive towers were slowly, heavily pried and 
dragged towards the walls, bristling as they were, on every 
floor, with spears, swords and battle-axes. All who manned 
them were meant for close combat and were clad in metal armor. 
At intervals along the walls, holding their shields above their 
heads, strong bodies of active men rushed in, dragging with them 
the clumsy battering-rams, and then quickly covering them and 
their workers with awnings of plank, hide and shields. Where 
the ground outside was high, dozens of daring and adventurous 
spirits ran in, bearing light scaling ladders, and strove in this 
way to reach the parapets. Here, of course, lay the greatest 
danger; but, to protect these men, the " forlorn hope" of the as- 
sault, the entire wall was surrounded by thousands upon thou- 
sands of expert slingers and cross-bowmen, who kept up an in- 
cessant shower of stones and arrows upon the ramparts, while at 
intervals among them were stationed the rude artillery of the 
day, pedereros and mangonels, for hurling heavy rocks ; or cata^ 
pults, that projected great darts. None were reliable or effec- 
tive over three hundred paces. The bowmen were the real 
sharp-shooters and most efficient of the second line of the 
besiegers. 

Furious, inspired, enthusiastic as was the assault of the allied 
Christians, the advantage lay with the defenders, and vehemently 
did they press it. Among the besiegers there had long been 
desperate suffering for want of water, and exposure day after day 
to the scorching rays of a midsummer sun on these shadeless, 
sandy slopes, had reduced them greatly in numbers and in per- 
sonal strength. Within the walls, however, water and shade had 
not been lacking. All brooks and streams had dried up, but 
the tanks and wells of Jerusalem still held out. As yet, there^ 
fore, there had been more suffering among the Christians than 
the Turks, and now the former were compelled to fight under 
greater disadvantage, for, secure behind their lofty walls, the 



204 JERUSALEM. 

latter had prepared their savage devices to aid them in repelling 
assault. Boiling pitch, boiling oil, huge crates of rocks, wooden 
beams, paving stones, all manner of missiles had been distributed 
around the walls, and now were emptied upon the devoted heads 
of the assailants. 

In vain the archers Strove to sweep the Saracens from the bat- 
tlements. They were enabled with very trifling exposure to 
hurl their ponderous devices upon the ladders and platforms of 
the soldiers of Christendom, and to cause terrible suffering and 
loss. Nevertheless the zeal of the knights and nobles never 
flagged. A religious fervor seemed to have seized one and all. 
Wherever a crusader fell, dozens leaped to take his place, and the 
desperate battle went on. Then as the towers were gradually 
worked in close to the walls a terrible element was added to the 
defensive powers ©f the Turks — Greek-fire — which they poured 
down upon the dry woodwork, and against which the assailants 
had no protection. The great three-storied tower of Raymond 
was soon reduced to ashes, dozens of gallant men dying beside it 
in vain endeavor to extinguish the flames. And though the 
towers of Godfrey and Tancred had not been destroyed, they 
became so crippled that later in the day they could not be moved 
at all, and the hopes of the crusaders were well-nigh crushed. 
Fast as ladders were raised they were hurled down from the 
walls, and though one or two breaches were made by the batter- 
ing rams, the infidels gathered in great force, rushed unex- 
pectedly out upon the crusaders through the gap made by their 
engines, and spread havoc and dismay about them before a suffi- 
cient number of men could rally and whip them back or cut 
them off Night at last put an end to the bloody work that had 
been going on all the long, hot summer's day, and the cru- 
saders, baffled, wearied and in bitter humiliation, fell back to their 
camps. 

But there was no thought of giving up. Wearied as they 
were, priests and leaders went about the camps exhorting the 
soldiers, promising the sure aid of heaven, and predicting suc- 
cess on the morrow; and when Friday, the 15th, was ushered in, 
with stubborn determination the Christians resumed the attack. 



"FIGHT ON! FIGHT ON!" 205 

The besieged had received large reinforcements in the shape 
of a host of soldiers from Egypt, and their spirits were greatly 
increased in consequence. From early morning until high noon 
the conflict was simply a repetition of the previous day. The 
wooden towers of Godfrey and of Tancred and the Dukes Robert 
were placed, in partial order during the night, and once more 
great efforts were made to push them up to the walls, but they 
advanced in a literal sea of flames, rained down from the fire- 
pots of the Mussulmans, and for hours it was-found impossible to 
get them within serviceable distance of the battlements. On 
the south side the Count of Toulouse was using all his artillery 
against the machines of the besieged, who on that front were 
commanded by the Emir of Jerusalem, a man of renowned 
courage, and here, too, all the fresh Egyptian troops were en- 
gaged. On the north Tancred and the Dukes of Normandy 
and Flanders urged on their followers, and eagerly sought means 
to extinguish the flames that were raging before them. Vinegar, 
it is said, would have answered the purpose, but vinegar there 
was none. At last, as noon came, even their towers took fire — 
the last two that remained; and in despair and exhaustion many 
of the crusaders came reeling back from the walls. Then, with 
savage glee, the Saracens redoubled their taunts and jeers. It 
seemed as though the God of the soldiers of the Cross had in- 
deed abandoned them. 

But suddenly there came a wonderful change. Over on the 
summit of the Mount of Olives, east of the city, and well back 
of the lines on that side, in full view of all the armies of Europe 
fighting on the north, the east and the south sides, there rode 
into view, distinctly outlined against the burning sky, the ap- 
parition of a tall, stalwart horseman, clad in gleaming armor, 
waving his spear and shield and signalling " Fight on ! " Godfrey 
de Bouillon and Raymond caught sight of him at the same in- 
stant, and, springing forward, eagerly pointing towards the mag- 
nificent figure, and with /inging voices making themselves heard 
above the tumult, they shouted "St. George to the rescue. Fight 
on! Fight on !" 

With a wonderful revival of hope, courage and enthusiasm the 



206 JERUSALEM. 

crusaders returned to the assault ; even the sick rushing into 
the fight, and women and children bringing scant supplies of 
water. At last the flames about the towers seemed to die out, 
possibly the Saracen supply was getting low ; and now, towards 
one in the blazing afternoon the tower of Godfrey is fairly 
lurching up against the eastern wall, and, despite the flights of 
arrows, darts, javelins and fire-pots, its heavy draw-bridge is 
poised in mid-air a few minutes, while the knights are forming 
for their rush, and then it lowers fairly upon the swarming bat- 
tlements. Instantly, preceded only by two daring brothers of 
Tournay, Godfrey of Bouillon dashes across the platform and 
in among the unarmored infidels. He is fully armed, fully 
equipped ; scores of gallant knights are at his back ; they break 
like a torrent through the rabble of Mussulman soldiery, hack- 
ing and hewing right and left ; and now, using the great tower 
as a stairway, hundreds of cheering Christians pour upward in 
their tracks, spreading out right and left as they reach the sum- 
mit of the walls. Almost at the same time, through breaches 
made by their battering-rams, and by means of their scaling- 
ladders, Tancred, the Dukes of Normandy and Flanders, the 
Knights of St. Paul, of Roussillon, of Mousson and Beam hew 
their way in from the north. The gate of St. Stephen is chopped 
in splinters with battle-axes, and Jerusalem is in the power of 
the soldiers of the Cross. East, north and south, now they are 
swarming through or over the walls, and the infidel garrison 
prove that, man to man, steel to steel, they are utterly "inferior 
to the valor and strength of Christendom. Even the Emir of 
Jerusalem at last lost heart and fled before the assaults of Ray- 
mond of Toulouse, taking refuge in the fortress of David ; and 
now, from every side, the victorious crusaders are meeting in 
the very centre of the city, embracing one another in a delirium 
of joy. 

Just at three o'clock on that darkened Friday afternoon, 
nearly eleven centuries before, Jesus Christ had died upon the 
cross for the redemption of the world. Just at three o'clock on 
this burning Friday afternoon, the soldiers of the Cross had 
burst through all obstacles and were masters of Jerusalem. No 



The crusaders triumphant. 207 

thought of mercy, no sentiment of pity for helpless women or 
children seem to have been aroused by the coincidence. While 
pious Godfrey and other eminent leaders hastened, barefooted, 
to prostrate themselves with the priests before the holy sepulchre 
itself, thousands of unmanageable and infuriated soldiery gave 
themselves up to the wildest deeds of murder and rapine. For 
one whole week the wretched Saracens were mercilessly hunted 
down. The mosques, where they had taken refuge in swarms, 
were turned into slaughter-pens. Claiming to be actuated in 
their warfare by love of Christ and a desire to restore to Chris- 
tianity the scenes of His sacred ministrations, these tiger-like sol- 
diers forgot His teachings in their fury for vengeance, and over 
seventy thousand Saracens were massacred in the streets and 
homes of the holy city. The Jews fled to their synagogue, and 
the mercy shown them was scant as that to the Mussulmans. 
The crusaders fired the great building and burned them alive. 

And now, for nearly ninety years, the powers of Christendom 
ruled Jerusalem. But it was a troublous and disorderly reign. 
Discords of every kind arose between the Knights of the Tem- 
ple and St. John and the clergy of the city. Religion had in- 
spired the crusade but was forgotten in its triumph. Peter the 
Hermit, who had entered the walls with the conquerors, and 
who was greeted with almost adoring welcome by the few 
Christians then dwellers in Jerusalem, speedily dropped out of 
sight in the dissensions that followed the conquest. Knight and 
prelate seemed now to aim only at plunder. The clergy, who 
had been revered and respected at home, and accustomed to see 
their mandates obeyed, even by the highest ranks, found them- 
selves now thwarted by the knights and soldiery. Then it is 
recorded that religion lost all its former hold on the minds of 
the Christian garrison, and that the immorality of the priesthood 
was the inciting cause, and " the house divided against itself" 
was destined speedily to have its fall. Gallant and true-hearted 
Godfrey died a year after his great victory, leaving to Baldwin, 
his brother, the succession to the throne ; but this was opposed 
by Tancred, and his reign of eighteen years was marred by con- 
stant warfare. Baldwin du Bourg succeeded him and reigned 
14 



208 JERUSALEM. 

till 1 131, and his death was followed by an endless series of dis- 
sensions and disasters, that so reduced the forces of the crusaders 
in the east that they were compelled to implore assistance. A 
grand expedition, organized in 1146 by the Emperor Conrade 
and by King Louis the Seventh, of France, which resulted in a 
loss of some 200,000 men, relieved them only temporarily. This 
was the Second Crusade, and was simply a continuous disaster, 
from which the monarchs returned to Europe in discouragement 
and discredit. 

Then there arose in the east a new and vigorous leader, a 
prince of Egypt, a brave, politic and powerful soldier. For 
years he had submitted to invasions of his territory, to all man- 
ner of breaches of faith from the divided and quarreling Chris- 
tians in Syria, and at last he determined on putting them out of 
the way and on retaking the capital. He fought a bloody bat- 
tle with them at Tiberias, captured every important city in 
Palestine on his way, and, in overwhelming numbers, appeared 
with his army before Jerusalem, now left with 100,000 inhabi- 
tants, but destitute of a garrison. Despite a brave resistance the 
holy city was captured, but in marked contrast to the conduct 
of the crusaders eighty-seven years before, the helpless inhabi- 
tants were treated with great gentleness and even kindness by 
the Moslem conqueror. Saladin far better deserved the name 
of Christian than thousands of those who employed it as a cover 
for their multitude of sins. In 1187 the Saracens once more 
held the holy city, and, to the dismay of the pope, who is said 
to have died of the shock, and of all Christendom, the sacrifices 
and sufferings, the battles and marches, and the victories and 
sieges of the First and Second Crusades had all been in vain. 
They were utterly set at naught by the overwhelming disasters 
of Tiberias and the recapture of the city of Jerusalem. 



ACRE. 




1191. 

I [E death of King Henry the Second of Eng- 
land, the wisest, best and most powerful of the 
monarchs of the island up to that time, called 
to the throne his eldest legitimate son, Rich- 
ard, a prince who had embittered the last 
years of his father's life by disloyalty and 
open revolt, and whose ingratitude had had 
much to do with bringing about the illness 
which ended that useful and worthy reign. 
Richard the First became King of England in July, 11 89, and 
at this moment all Christendom was in a turmoil of excitement 
over the efforts of the Church of Rome to bring about a third 
Crusade for the final rescue of the holy sepulchre. Saladin was 
in undisputed possession of the Holy Land, excepting the foot- 
hold still retained by the soldiers of the Cross around the walls 
of Ptolemais, an important harbor and fortress on the sea-coast, 
soon known to history as Acre, or, in full, St. Jean d'Acre. 

Many catastrophes and disasters had overtaken the various 
armies of crusaders that had set forth for the rescue of Jerusalem, 
Thousands of brave knights and true noblemen had laid down 
their lives ; hundreds of thousands of rude and brutal soldiery 
had never returned, to the no great loss of their native coun- 
tries ; but the Church of Rome had been vastly benefited finan- 
cially by the Crusades ; the plunder of many a rich city had been 
laid at the feet of the popes, and quite as much on this account 
perhaps as from zeal against the infidels or true devotion to the 
cause of Christianity the priests of the Romish church were tire- 
less in their importunities, and their instructions doubtles.s came 

(209) 



210 ACRE. 

from the Sovereign Pontiff. Every ruler of power or prominence 
was incessantly urged by the priesthood to equip and send east- 
ward all the soldiers of his realm, and join in the great work of 
.exterminating the infidel Mussulman and restoring the Christian 
throne at Jerusalem; and now that Richard of England had 
gained his crown, the very man they needed stood only too 
ready to lend an ear to their appeal. 

More from love of military glory, and an unbounded pride in 
his own physical skill and strength, than any depth of religious 
feeling, the young king was prompt to act. It seemed from the 
very first as though the m&in purpose of his government had 
been the recovery of Jerusalem, and the very day of his corona- 
tion was marked by an awful outrage at the expense of thousands 
of defenceless Jews in his kingdom. He had forbidden their 
appearance at the ceremony, but, with the fatuity of their race, 
a number of their wealthiest representatives believed that by 
coming with valuable presents they would be recognized, ad- 
mitted, and probably succeed in establishing more cordial rela- 
tions with the soldierly young monarch. But almost all the 
spendthrift nobility, and scores of the officers and soldiers, were 
" in the hands of the Jews," and, grasping, merciless creditors as 
the Israelites had been, there was every feeling against them. 
Richard's order gave his guards an excuse to drive the importu- 
nate delegation into the streets ; the Jews ran in terror ; the sol- 
diers pursued in cruel delight, and, like wildfire, a cry went up 
that the new king had ordered that the Crusade begin at home 
and that the Jews be massacred forthwith. The mob of London 
was let loose upon the wretched Hebrews ; they were slaughtered 
without mercy ; their wives and daughters were outraged and 
slain ; their hoarded wealth scattered to the winds, and, once 
started, the rabble knew not where to stop. The homes of 
wealthy Christians were next sacked and burned, and for some 
days the scenes of riot and confusion baffled all description. The 
story flew to the provinces. At the city of York 500 Jews had 
taken refuge in the castle and made for a time a vigorous defence, 
but, finding their efforts unavailing, and that the mob were gain- 
ing ground every instant, the poor, helpless creatures first killed 



RICHARD'S AMBITION. 211 

their own wives and children, then set fire to the castle and died 
in the flames. It is said that the nobility and gentry, most of 
whom were indebted to the Jews, now ran to the cathedral where 
their bonds were kept, and, with much solemn rejoicing, made a 
huge bonfire of them before the altar. Richard had indeed be- 
gun his Crusade at home. 

And now, though he had a large fortune inherited from his 
father. King Richard virtually mortgaged his kingdom in order 
to raise immense sums to enable him to carry on the war. He 
meant to be the hero of the Third Crusade, and to win a glory 
and record before which the names of Godfrey, Tancred and Ray- 
mond would fade into insignificance. He sold the offices of trust 
and profit ; he sold the revenues and manors of the crown ; he 
released the pledged soldiers of the Cross from their vows on 
payment of ransom-money, and by all manner of exactions and 
oppressions ground money from the English people of every 
rank. It was with the utmost relief they finally saw him started 
with his gorgeous retinue, the richest prince that had yet taken 
the field in the service of the Cross. 

Already the Emperor Frederick, with 150,000 men, had started <^ 
for Palestine. His army was subjected to much hardship and 
was greatly reduced by the time he reached Syria, where he 
himself died of a sudden fever, and Prince Conrade, his son, 
pushed on to the Holy Land, arriving there finally with less 
than 10,000 effectives. So many severe lessons had thus been 
taught the crusaders of the danger and difficulty of marching all 
the way, that now the allied Kings of England and France de- 
termined to try the voyage by sea. With this view the com- 
bined armies, numbering in all 100,000 men, were encamped at 
Vezelay, on the borders of Burgundy, and here Kings Richard 
and Philip pledged to each other cordial friendship, the fealty 
of their knights and barons, their faith and honor for the de- 
termined prosecution of the Crusade, and mutual agreements not 
to permit the invasion of each other's kingdoms by their sub- 
jects during this absence from home ; and, with such apparently 
complete understanding, each at the head of his own army 
marched to the point where he was to meet his fleet — Philip 



212 ACRE. 

going to Genoa, Richard to Marseilles. Both put to sea about 
the 14th of September, 1190. Both were driven by storms to 
put into the harbor of Messina. There they were detained all 
winter, and there discord arose between them. 

Both kings were haughty, ambitious, eager for glory, and 
more or less unscrupulous. Rivals from the outset as soldiers, 
they now became embroiled in their family relations. There 
had been a time when King Richard was expected to marry 
Princess Alice of France. Now he refused to do so, and an- 
nounced his determination of marrying Berengaria of Navarre. 
King Philip had to consent, but with infinite anger, and his re- 
jected sister was left in France, while Berengaria, Queen of 
England, accompanied the great expedition to Palestine. Broils 
and battles had sprung up between the French and English sol- 
diers while at Messina, and no love was lost between the rival 
hosts when, in the spring, the French set sail for the Holy Land, 
leaving King Richard waiting for his expected bride before he 
would consent to start. 

All this time Ptolemais or Acre had been the scene of a 
vehement conflict. Inside the walls, and bravely, skillfully de- 
fending it, was a strong garrison under the Saracen Caracos, a 
veteran and distinguished soldier. Outside the walls, closely 
investing them and fighting with determined courage, were the 
united forces of all the crusaders left in Palestine. A large and 
vigorous army, but — it lay between two fires. Saladin himself 
with a powerful host, mainly of well-trained horsemen, lay around 
the camp of the invaders, and even while they were surround- 
ing and hemming in and hammering away at the garrison of 
Acre they themselves, besieging, were besieged. Saladin was 
vigilant, vehement in his tactics, striking incessantly at every 
exposed point on their lines, and utterly hampering the Chris- 
tians in their prosecution of the siege. This was the state 
of affairs when the fleet of King Philip appeared off the har- 
bor of Acre, and was soon followed by that of Richard of 
England. 

The arrival of such powerful reinforcements gave infinite hope 
to the well-nigh exhausted besiegers. If concert of action could 



KNIGHTLY CONDUCT OF SALADIN. 213 

be maintained, there was now every prospect of success. It was 
arranged that the new armies should alternate in their duties; 
that while the English on one day attacked the city, the French 
should guard the camps against the assaults of Saladin, and, in 
the rivalry that arose, deeds of prodigious valor were soon the 
theme of every tongue. Richard himself became the hero of 
the siege. Personally of superb courage and strength, he won 
the devoted admiration of his soldiers by his fearless exposure 
and impetuous bravery, and as speedily became the object of 
the intense hatred of his insidious and envious rival. 

The great camp of the crusaders spread like a fortified city 
over the plain which surrounded Acre. It was divided up by 
streets, and in many places substantial houses had been built in 
place of the lighter tents. Each nation had its separate ward or 
quarter, and its own arms, armor and language. An almost 
Babel-like variety of tongues prevailed, but at the signal for bat- 
tle there was unanimity and combined effort. With the armies 
of Richard and Philip fairly at work, there could be but short 
life for Acre, and the reduction of the city seemed now but a 
question of a few days. 

But here the consequences of Philip's jealousy and his insidi- 
ous stabs at his braver rival began to tell upon the latter. 
Some of Richard's own trusted knights became estranged. 
Then Philip fell ill, and accused Richard of having poisoned his 
food. Then King Richard was prostrated by a mysterious 
malady, and really believed that his rival was in some way the 
cause of it. The garrison of Acre quickly saw that the direct- 
ing head and arm of the siege was no longer at the front, took 
heart again and redoubled their efforts. A curious feature of 
the war was the conduct of Saladin at this juncture. He was 
far more knightly and chivalric than many a knight of Christen- 
dom ; and when he learned that both the rival monarchs were 
ill, his own physicians, skilled in the treatment of local maladies, 
were sent with medicines to their succor. This was so glaring 
an innovation on the practices of war that, while at first con- 
founded by such delicate attentions, both monarchs sent mes- 
sages of thanks. This led to frequent inquiries from Saladin as 



214 ACRE. 

to how his royal patients were progressing, and to courteous 
and grateful responses from both the bed-ridden kings. Then 
they accused each other of holding communication with the 
enemy. There was something very puerile about it. 

Two general assaults had been made on the walls, and both 
times the crusaders had been so harassed by simultaneous 
attacks from outside by Saladin, that they were able to throw 
only hampered effort into the attempts, and were beaten back. 
Nevertheless the walls were crumbling under their repeated 
blows ; famine and disease had weakened the garrison; many had 
been killed, and Saladin could in no way replace them ; there 
were no longer men enough to man and work the ponderous 
garrison artillery; stones and other missiles were getting scarce; 
the supply of Greek-fire was giving out; all their oil and lead 
had long since been boiled and poured in death-dealing tor- 
rents on the besiegers, and at last the garrison proposed a 
capitulation. 

The answer was a demand for the surrender by the Saracens 
of all the cities they had captured since their great victory at 
Tiberias. A prompt refusal was given, and the Saracens nerved 
themselves for a last effort. 

And now followed several days of incessant and terrific fight- 
ing, which was but a repetition of that witnessed at Jerusalem. 
In one magnificent assault a noble knight of Florence succeeded 
in cutting down and carrying off the Moslem standard, and Al- 
beric Clement, Marshal of France, sword in hand, cut his way 
well into the city before he fell, hacked to death. Stephen of 
Blois and many other knights were burned to cinders by Greek- 
fire which they could not escape, and throughout the ranks of 
the crusaders there had been heavy loss. But by this time the 
last energies of the garrison were spent. Some few emirs 
managed to escape at night by the harbor, but the starving 
remnant at last renewed their offer of surrender. Throwing 
themselves on the mercy of the Christians, they agreed, if their 
lives were spared, that i,6oo Christian prisoners should be given 
up, together with the wood of the true cross, and to pay an 
immense sum in gold. The garrison and the whole population 



END OF THE BLOODY SIEGE. 215 

were to remain as hostages in the hands of the crusaders until 
this ransom was paid by their Saracen friends. 

But now, according to some accounts, there fell the one blot 
upon the name of the knightly and gallant Saladin. Apprised 
of the surrender and the terms just as he was making a final effort 
to relieve the city, he demurred about the payment of the sum 
required, temporized for days on one pretence or another, until 
at last Richard of England, in a fit of rage, ordered the imme- 
diate slaughter of 5,000 defenceless prisoners, as a means of 
bringing the Saracen to terms, and the inhuman order was car- 
ried out in full view of the chieftain, whose vacillation and cu- 
pidity had brought it about. 

This was the end of the long and bloody siege of Acre. For 
three years the city had held out against the fleets and armies 
of the crusaders, who had .spilled a sea of blood around its walls. 
Nine determined battles had been fought between the Christians 
and Saracens in sight of its towers. Hundreds of spirited skir- 
mishes had occurred between the outposts and the cavalry of 
Saladin. Thousands of valuable lives and countless treasure , 
had been sacrificed, and all to no real purpose. 

Philip, disheartened and wearied, decided to return to France, 
leaving Richard in sole command, and the latter saw before him 
a tremendous undertaking. He had yet to march down the sea- 
coast, reduce the fortress of Ascalon, and fight his way to the 
walls of Jerusalem. The war was now to be fought between 
Richard and Saladin, beyond all question the two greatest sol- 
diers of the day. 

With a much reduced but still formidable army, the King of 
England, after the fall of Acre, marched upon Ascalon, the scene 
of his greatest personal triumphs. With 300,000 fighting men, 
Saladin threw himself across his path, and now ensued that 
series of desperate combats that made the wars of the crusades 
for centuries the theme of minstrels' songs and written pages. 
Near Ascalon, at Azotus, occurred the most brilliant and glori- 
ous of great Richard's battles; for here, when the fortunes of the 
day were utterly against him, when both his right and left wings 
were routed and well-nigh gone, the hero of England rode into 



216 ACRE. 

the very van of the battle, leading the still steadfast centre, and 
there, with sword and battle-axe, doing appalling execution 
among the Saracens, reanimating his followers, giving his wings 
time to retake breath and rally, snatching victory from the jaws 
of defeat and winning for himself the immortal name by which 
he was ever after known : Richard Coenr de Lioit — Richard of 
the Lion Heart. Eight thousand Saracens were stretched dead 
upon the sands of Palestine on that eventful day. Ascalon went 
down before the crusaders, and then they turned upon Jerusalem. 

But here at last hi.s armies failed him. First, to curry favor 
with their own monarch, some of the prominent French leaders 
abandoned the campaign. Then whole battalions of the soldiers 
declared themselves unable to longer continue the contest in 
that parched and desolate land. The English, too, began to 
waver and fall back, and at the very moment when King Rich- 
ard saw before him the towers of the holy city and the long 
hoped-for opportunity of retaking it, he realized that his force 
was no longer sufficient to warrant the attempt. But his victo- 
ries had given him the ascendency over Saladin, and that chief 
was glad to conclude a truce, by the terms of which he agreed 
to leave Acre, Joppa and the sea-ports of Palestine in the hands 
of the Christians, and that every pilgrim or crusader should be 
permitted now to visit, unmolested, the shrine at Jerusalem. 
This treaty was to remain in force three years, three months, 
three weeks, three days and three hours — " a magical number," 
suggested by the superstitions of the crusaders. 

Long before the expiration of the truce, brave Saladin died at 
Damascus, and Richard, his great conqueror, was a prisoner in 
Germany. Betrayed by his brother John, and intrigued against 
by his relentless rival. King Philip, the lion-hearted king had 
great difficulty in making his way back to England ; but once 
there, his people rallied enthusiastically to his support, his 
brother grovelled at his feet for pardon, and obtained it through 
the intercession of his mother. Queen Eleanor; but before he 
was enabled to punish and humble King Philip, an arrow-wound 
in the shoulder inflamed, gangrene set in, and on the 6th of 
April, 1 199, in the tenth year of his martial reign, and the forty- 



— 217 

second of his aclventurous life, Richard Cceur de Lion lay dead, 
and tlie Crusades soon died out with these, their greatest lead- 
ers. Long afterwards other expeditions were sent to the holy 
land, the most notable being that of King Louis the Ninth, of 
France, universally known as Saint Louis, who finally died of 
the pestilence, which was ravaging the shores of Africa when 
he led his armies thither against the western possessions of the 
infidels. The Crusades ended with his death, in 1270. 




ATTACK ON THE WALLS OF ACRE. 



CRESSY. 




1346. 



?N the 26th of August, 1346, was fought a gal- 
lant battle that, though marking no historical 
movement of nations or peoples, and though 
not being one of the decisive battles of the 
world, is memorable as the beginning of a 
military epoch. Light artillery had its bap- 
tism on that hard-fought field. 

Siege-guns had been known for years. 
Gunpowder had been used for centuries by 
the Chinese, the Hindoos, the Arabs, the Moors, who brought 
it to Spain. Siege-guns, clumsy and rude, to be sure, but guns 
for all that, had grown into use all over Christendom ; but when 
Berthold Schwartz stumbled upon the principle of graiiulatmg 
the thin dust of the ancients, he contrived an explosive so pow- 
erful, that it gave him the name of inventor. Only twenty-six 
years before Cressy did he hit upon this improvement. Then 
new guns sprang into use all over western Europe. Crude 
things they were ; and those which have made this battle the 
light artillerist's initial point, were not much larger and no more 
formidable than the duck-gun of to-day. Much time, trouble 
and muscle were expended in lugging the piece into action, and 
then all who could do so stood aside, when finally this pioneer- 
gun discharged its contents towards the enemy. But so little 
were they trusted, so long did they take to load, to aim and to 
shoot, and so utterly uncertain was it which way the charge 
would go, that though Cressy saw the introduction of field- 
artillery, and is renowned for that fact, and for the hard, honest, 
stubborn fighting that was done there, it seems that very little 
(218) 



ENGLAND INVADES FRANCE 219 

part did the artillery play in the varying fortunes of the day. 
Indeed, the French forgot theirs altogether. 

Edward the Third was King of England, and, as was usual in 
the days succeeding the Crusades, there was strife twixt Eng- 
land and France. It took several centuries to settle their diffi- 
culties, but the immediate cause of the war of 1346 seems still 
to be a matter of dispute between the historians of the respec- 
tive nations. Each lays the blame upon the other. Three 
years previously King Edward was in France with a small army 
of 12,000 men, acting in defence of the Countess of Mountfort. 
He was besieged by a much larger force, and was very glad to 
listen to the entreaties of the messengers of the Pope of Rome, 
who was anxious to put an end to hostilities. A treaty was 
entered into for a three years' truce. Edward went back to 
England, and even an English historian (Hume) says that he 
never meant to keep the peace. He certainly was the first 
aggressor, and Parliament, in 1344, voted him supplies to con- 
tinue the war, and urged him not to be deterred " by a fraudu- 
lent truce." 

Edward therefore sent an army under command of his own 
cousin, the Earl of Derby, into Guienne ; the earl attacked and 
beat the French in several sharp engagements, until an over- 
powering force came against him, when he begged for aid from 
home. King Edward was eager and ready. He longed for a 
pretext for the reinvasion of France. He had at Southampton, 
all prepared, a fleet of a thousand sail ; and now with all the 
chief nobility of England, with his own brave boy, the Prince of 
Wales, then but sixteen years old, and with a powerful army he 
landed at La Hogue on the 12th of July. 

His original destination had been the shores of Guienne, on 
the southwestern coast of France, adjacent to the Bay of Biscay, 
but prudent advisers pointed out the fact that all the French 
troops were now concentrated thereabouts, and that he would 
find the northern provinces well-nigh defenceless, and he readily 
changed his plan. The harbors of La Hogue, Cherbourg and 
Barfleur lay close together, and almost immediately he had pos- 
session of all three. 



220 CRESSY. 

The army of King Edward was a mixed array. There were 
4,OCX5 " men-at-arms ; " 10,000 archers ; 10,000 Welsh and 6,ooo 
Irish infantry. The men-at-arms and archers were mainly native 
English. They were the regulars — the disciplined and most 
reliable troops. But the Welsh and Irish, though turbulent and 
disorderly, were very effective light troops and foragers, and did 
fearful service in the ravaging work on which King Edward 
entered forthwith. The men-at-arms were all finely mounted 
and heavily equipped. The archers were lightly clad and 
protected, were swift of foot and tolerably good marksmen. 
But one and all these soldiers were let loose over northern 
France with orders to plunder, burn and destroy — spreading 
east and west during the day but reuniting at central points at 
night. 

Eager to popularize the invasion among his nobles. King 
Edward appointed the Earl of Arundel constable of the army; 
the Earls of Warwick and Harcourt marshals, and several of the 
younger lords, among them the Prince of Wales, were named 
knights. The order of knighthood was dearly prized among 
the younger soldiers, for the traditions of the Crusades and 
the glorious deeds of their forefathers were fresh in the minds 
of all. 

The first large city to fall before the English was Caen. A 
defence had been attempted in the open field (for the city was 
unfortified), but the hastily gathered garrison were no match for 
the invaders. They broke, ran pell-mell back into the city with 
the English among them or at their heels, and then began a 
brutal massacre of the people — men, women and children being 
furiously slaughtered. It was soon checked by Edward's young 
knights, but the pillage went on. In three days the city was 
sacked of all its treasure ; money, plate, jewels, silks, etc., were 
shipped back to England, together with 300 of the richest citizens 
as prisoners. Then the English turned on the grand old city of 
Rouen, but the French had destroyed the bridge, and King 
Philip of France had hastened from Paris with a good-sized 
army and held the east bank of the Seine. They could not 
cross. 



"LET HIM WIN HIS SPURS." 221 

But they went on up the valley, even as far as the gates of 
Paris, some few of them. They burned the beautiful palace of 
St. Germain. They destroyed many peaceful villages. Then 
Edward saw that great forces were gathering to surround him, 
trapped as he was far from the ships and the shores. He knew 
that he must get back by a short cut across the Seine. Kis ready 
wits enabled him to delude the French, to quickly rebuild the 
bridge at Poissy and then to strike north for the coast. Still 
he had desperate danger to encounter, but wit and courage again 
helped him, and at last— breathless, dripping with the waters of 
the river Somme through which he and his men had plunged, 
but whose rising tide balked the vehemence of the pursuit— he 
halted on the slopes of Crecy, as it was called by the French, the 
sparkling waters of the English Channel at his back, and all 
France pressing after him in chase. 

But France had to stop and hunt for bridges, and the King 
of England had a day to himself A born fighter was Edward 
the Third, and though four times his force would be on him on 
the morrow, he never flinched or lost heart. 

In three lines he drew up his army on a gentle slope near little 
Cressy. In front of the first, at intervals along the line, he 
placed his few clumsy field-guns, and supporting them, com- 
manding his exposed advance, he stationed the gallant boy in 
whom his hopes were centred. " Let him win his spurs," said 
the stern father ; " I can name him knight — he alone can make 
himself a true one." 

But he gave the boy his noblest earls to back him — Harcourt, 
Oxford, Warwick, and there too were Lords Chandos and Hoh 
land. Brave noblemen were stationed with the second line. 
The king himself took the third. From the high ground be- 
hind he meant to overlook the fight, and only plunge in with 
his reserve just when and where it should be needed to turn the 
issue of a doubtful fight. He covered the flanks with trenches, 
and his baggage, drawn up in the wood behind the crest, was 
similarly protected. 

Everything was done so quietly and methodically that the 
soldiers gained confidence despite the fearful odds ; but when 



222 CRESSY. 

their king rode around through the ranks exhorting them to be 
steadfast and of good cheer — to fight as they saw his son fight — 
they gained enthusiasm with every word. He would ask notn- 
ing of his soldiers that he would not ask of the heir to his 
throne. 

And so in easy composure the English watched the tumul- 
tuous approach of the French, still some miles away towards 
Abbeville, but pouring over the bridge and deploying across 
the open ground that lay towards the Somme. A brisk shower 
of rain swept over the scene as the first line of the French moved 
forward. King Edward's archers coolly slipped their bows back 
within their covers — and waited. The opposing line, all bow- 
men, Genoese, came on in eager haste, and let their bowstrings 
soak. It was a fatal oversight. 

There were 1 5 ,000 of these Genoese crossbowmen, led by Doria 
and Grimaldi. Behind them came a second line, led by the Count 
of Alen9on, King Philip's brother. The king himself led the 
third line, and with his army were three other crowned heads — 
those of the Kings of Bohemia, of the Romans, and of Majorca. 
All the nobility of France were there, and over 100,000 soldiery- 
In great haste, in bitter hatred, in disorder and fatigue, they in- 
sisted on rushing in to the attack and extermination of the 
little army of invaders that had worked such havoc among their 
homes. They never doubted the issue. 

Just at three o'clock in the afternoon of this showery August 
day, the eager lines of France begin the ascent of the slope. 
The rain has ceased for the time being, and now as their oppo- 
nents come within range, the bowmen of England draw forth 
their weapons. A moment more, and, as with one accord, the 
Genoese crossbows are raised to the shoulders of the advancing 
line ; then the air is filled with thousands of bolts whizzing up 
the slope, but to the dismay of the French, to the glee and 
ridicule of the islanders, not one reaches its mark. The wet, 
limp bow-strings refuse to perform their work, the missiles pass 
harmlessly into the sward. Then comes the answer. With 
jeering laughter, but practised aim, the English archers let 
drive their barbed flights into the dense mafeses of the wavering 




THE BATTLE OF CRECY —A de NeuvUle 



THE STRUGGLE BEGINS. ^23, 

Genoese. In vain the leaders spring to the front and strive to 
ure^e them on. They are aghast at the failure of the only weapon 
they know how to use ; they are falling by scores under the un- 
erring aini of the English. They are thrown into utter confu- 
sion, and, to the amaze of the crowding and over confident 
soldiers of the lines behind them, they begin to surge back. 

Instantly the gallant young Prince of Wales pricks spurs to 
his horse, and with joyous shout calls to his nobles and his 
whole line to follow him, and with cheers and exultation they 
charge down the slope upon the hapless allies of France. And 
now in good earnest back go the crossbowmen — back into the 
very faces of the second line — back upon the knights and armored 
cavalry of the Count of Alen9on. Enraged at their cowardice, 
the latter orders his horsemen to cut them down. Then, too, 
before the first line of the English passed beyond them, each 
one of their unwieldy guns, it is said, was fired into the strug- 
gling mass, and the charge that followed was doubly successful 
from the consternation thereby produced. The French had 
already seen artillery in siege operations, and Cordova and Gibral- 
tar in Spain had succumbed to stone shot from cumbrous 
engines that vomited fire, smoke and uproar ; but in open battle 
artillery had not yet been used, and the few discharges of the 
English guns must have had at least a moral effect. 

But all the chivalry of France is in that second line under 
Alen9on. Full 30,000 gallant knights and gentlemen, skillful 
horsemen and trained foot soldiers, all together now they sweep 
forward, kicking contemptuously out of their way or trampling 
under foot the cowering Genoese, and with the fierce delight of 
battle they meet and envelop the slender line of brave young 
Edward. It is his maiden battle. He well knows that the eyes 
of all England are on him, and with fearless mien and flashing 
sword he spurs into the midst of the group of nobles in the 
opposing centre. He is just sixteen, but, stripling though he is, 
the spirit of a race of kings nerves his arm, and he has the best 
blood of old England at his back. At close quarters now, hand 
to hand, foot to foot, the battle rages, and the Kings of France 
and England under their standards gaze anxiously upon the 
15 



224 CRESSY. 

struggle. Soon it is p?en that, despite superb courage, the far 
greater numbers of the French are proving too much for young 
Edward's line. And, prompt, impetuous and eager, the Earl of 
Arundel orders in his portion of the second to the rescue, 
Northampton follows rt once with his, and fresh horsemen 
from the French third line spur forward to meet them. It is a 
tremendous conflict now. Every inch of ground is fought over 
a dozen times, but ever -n the thickest of the fight the glittering 
array of knights surround the mail-clad form of the slender 
young leader. There, nt least, there is " no footstep backward." 

The Earl of Warwick, fearing that too great a strain was being 
brought to bear upon his young master, sent word begging the 
king himself to come to the rescue with all the reserve, but 
though in an agony of anxiety. King Edward gazed steadily at 
the heart of the battle one moment, then — 

" Go back to my son," said he. "Tell him that to him I in- 
trust the honor of the day. He will show himself worthy the 
knighthood I so lately conferred on him. He can, without my 
help, beat back the enemy," and this was the message that came 
to " The Black Prince " in vhe heat of the battle. 

Never faltering before, ti'is seems to have given him heroic 
strength. Calling on all to join him, young Edward once again 
dashed into the midst of the attacking line. Knights and nobles 
spur at his back and side. They strike for the brilliant group 
of nobles among the French, and there in short, sharp conflict 
down go the Count of Alonjon, down go the Kings of Majorca 
and Bohemia (the latter 'tis said by the hand of Prince Edward 
himself, but as the king was blind with old age it is one part of 
the story we would rather not believe). The whole cavalry line 
is thrown into confusion, thousands of riders are unhorsed 
and slain, the savagt Welshmen rushing in and cutting their 
throats \vith kn.2«es as they drag them from their wounded 
horses. 

In vain the King of France spurred forward with his reserve 
to restore the battle. His horse was killed. Another was given 
hirii, and he again strove by voice and example to reanimate his 
men, but now all England was upon them. Hope and courage 



NOTABLE FRENCH DEAD. 225 

were gone, and, as the sun went down towards the western 
horizon, the French army was in full flight, the king himself 
being led away, and saved only by the devotion of some of his 
knights. 

Pursuit was kept up till darkness, and stragglers were cut 
down and slain without mercy. The loss on the French side 
was appalling, for even on the following day they were trapped 
into ambush and the slaughter kept up. A fog was rolling in 
from the sea. Many of the French lost their way. The Eng- 
lishmen raised on the heights all the standards captured in the 
battle of the day before, and hundreds of poor fellows were 
lured into fancied shelter by the cruel artifice and murdered in 
cold blood. 

The French dead at Cressy are given as follows : Two kings 
(Bohemia and Majorca), the Count d'Alengon, the Dukes of 
Bourbon and Lorraine, the Earls of Aumale, Blois, Flanders 
and Vaudemont ; 1,200 knights, 1,400 gentlemen of rank, 4,00'? 
men-at-arms (heavy cavalry) and 30,000 ordinary soldiery 
What deserved to be an easy victory for King Philip had been 
turned into overwhelming rout and slaughter by the skill, cool- 
ness and courage of King Edward of England, whose own 
losses were insignificant in comparison. 

Crecy, or Cressy, deserves to be remembered mainly for the 
skill of King Edward, and the heroic courage of his knights and 
nobles. It was in memory of this gallant battle that the soldier 
monarch resolved upon the creation of that proud order of 
knighthood that to this day is so honored, envied and prized in 
England — the Order of the Garter. 

Originally intended only as a reward for most heroic and 
valuable services of a military nature, some additions and inno- 
vations have been made by recent monarchs, by which some 
few very eminent statesmen (notably Disraeli) and members of 
the royal houses of great nations have been admitted by favor 
of the Sovereign of Great Britain. But the Order of the Garter 
dates back to Cressy ; some accounts alleging that King Ed- 
ward took off his garter in the heat of the battle and hurled it, 
as the Romans sometimes did their eagles, into the midst of the 



THE BATTLE OF AGINCOURT. 



227 



pletely overthrew him, and the French loss in nobles and 
knights exceeded that of Cressy, though a far less number of 
soldiers of, the line were victims. Agincourt was one of the 
proudest victories ever won, though the victors immediately re- 
turned to their own country. Fought nearly two centuries 
apart, Crecy and Agincourt lie close together, between Calais 
and St. Valery, near the English Channel. 




EDWA*^ m. CONGRATULATING THE BLACK PKINCE, AFTER CRESSY. 



ORLEANS. 



1429. 




WO years after Agincourt, Henry the Fifth 
again invaded France, conquered Normandy, 
and, in 1420, concluded the treaty of Troyes, 
by which it was agreed that while King 
Ciiarles should retain the title of King of 
France, the government should be Henry's, 
and that the crown should descend to the 
latter's heirs. In 1422, singularly enough, 
both kings died. Henry VI. was immedi- 
ately proclaimed King of England and 
France, but numbers of the French refused to be bound by the 
treaty, and the dauphin, the son of Charles VI., was named 
King Charles VII. Instantly the English regent, the Duke of 
Bedford, attacked and beat the army of the daupliin at Crevant, 
and, in 1422, won a great victory at Verneuil over the dau- 
phin's people and their Scotch allies. Thus far, therefore, for 
nearly three centuries, the English had been having an almost 
uninterrupted success in France, and, vastly disheartened, the 
French army that had made its way to Orleans now found it- 
self besieged. 

The city of Orleans lies at the northernmost point reached by 
the river Loire, which, rising in the extreme south of France, 
flows northward some two hundred and fifty miles, and then, 
at almost an acute angle, sweeps round to the south of west and, 
after another meander of equal length, empties into the Bay of 
Biscay. Just under the 48th parallel, at this angle, lies the old 
town, mainly on the northern bank of the stream, though even 
in 1428 its suburbs extended some distance out on the low 
(228) 



PREPARATIONS OF THE FRENCH. 229 

grounds on the other side, a strong bridge connecting the two 
sections of the city. Fortification had already grown to be 
something of an art, and the southern end of the bridge was de- 
fended by a strong field-work, that nowadays would be known 
as a tete-du-pont, while on the bridge itself two solid towers of 
masonry had been raised close to the southern shore. North 
of and including these towers all was solid masonry ; south of 
them only a draw-bridge connected with the shore. These 
" Tourelles," as they were called, and the bridge-head combined 
to make a strong fortified post, and into them a garrison of con- 
siderable strength had been thrown, when the advisers of the 
feeble-minded dauphin induced him to make one supreme effort 
to save Orleans. 

There was every reason why he should. The Loire divided 
France about in half. Everything north and east of it was now 
held by the English. He and his upholders were confined to 
the countries below it, and Orleans was the last stronghold left 
to them. Driven from his proper capital, the Dauphin Charles 
was fretting at Chinon, a hundred miles or so southwest of Or- 
leans. He had ordered his best troops to the Loire, and placed 
the Lord of Gaucour, a gallant soldier, in command of the de- 
fences of the threatened city as soon as the movement of the 
English indicated their intention of swooping down upon it. 
Already the Earl of Salisbury, with a strong force, had crossed 
the Loire, and soon showed by his advance his project of in- 
vesting the fortress from the south. He had but io,000 men, but 
the uninterrupted triumphs of the English had made him con- 
fident of his ability to resist counter attack, and knowing that 
he could not hope to carry the walls by assault, he determined 
first to win the bridge and so cut off the main line of supplies 
for the garrison. He arrived before the town on the I2th of 
October, 1428, and on the 23d had carried the Tourelles by 
storm. But in retreating across to the city the French broke 
down the arches of the bridge. 

And now in good earnest artillery began to play its part in 
siege operations. The English planted a heavy battery in the 
works they had won, commanding some of the main streets of 



230 ORLEANS. 

the city, while the garrison in turn shiftedsomeof their guns to 
bear upon the Tourelles, and here, a few days after the assault 
on, the tete-du-pont, a cannon shot killed the Earl of Salisbury 
aaJ the command devolved upon the Earl of Suffolk. 

Among the prominent officers in Orleans at this time was the 
Count of Dunois, a natural son of the Duke of Orleans who 
had been assassinated by the Duke of Burgundy just before the 
freaity of Troyes. Dunois had already shown great courage 
and ability as a leader of small commands and was gradually 
advanced to more important posts. The English were unable 
with so few men to surround the city. The French made forays 
in every direction, adding to their own supplies and cutting off 
those that were intended for the invaders, so that the latter were 
compelled to send convoys to bring in their trains of provisions. 
Thus it happened that a severe combat took place between 
2,500 English, under Sir John Fastolffe, and 4,000 French, 
under Dunois. The latter kept his men well out of close range 
and hammered away at Fastolffe's wagons with his battery, 
utterly demolishing them and their contents and giving the 
English decidedly the worst of the day, until a lot of insubordi- 
nate Scotch allies rushed out of his line of battle bent on an 
independent attack of their own. Dunois was then dragged 
into a very different kind of battle in which he could no longer 
use his artillery, and being now compelled to fight at close 
quarters his people were soon completely thrashed by the stal- 
wart English and he himself was wounded. This fight, "The 
Battle of the Herrings," as it was called from the fact that 
the provisions of the train consisted mainly of that fishy food 
(Lent was then beginning), renewed the hopes and courage of 
the English, and correspondingly depressed the defenders of 
Orleans. 

Reinforcements were constantly arriving for both besiegers 
and besieged. Some 3,000 soldiers were now within the walls 
holding their own against 23,000. But by this time the Earl 
of Suffolk had succeeded in building at regular intervals around 
the city strong redoubts, called bastilles, wherein his men were 
safely lodged, and was busily engaged in connecting them with 



HEROIC DEFENCE OF THE CITY. 231 

lines of earthworks to complete the investment of the city. The 
early spring of 1429 found matters in this state: the English 
and their allies, the Burgundians, being strong and jubilant; the 
French well-nigh starving and hopeless. 

Still disdaining to surrender to the hated English, yet de- 
spairing of aid from the weakling monarch they were so nobly 
serving, Gaucour and Dunois made proposals to surrender Or- 
leans to their countryman, the Duke of Burgundy. That noble- 
man went at once to Paris and laid the proposition before the 
English regent, the Duke of Bedford, who made so rude and 
discourteous a reply that Burgundy went back in disgust and 
withdrew all his troops from the siege. Still the English had 
now far more than men enough. They could simply take their 
ease in the trenches and starve out the city. Taking it by 
assault was no longer to be thought of Never was walled 
town more heroically defended. The few attempts that Suffolk 
had made convinced him that it was a hornets' nest he could not 
tamper with. Impetuous as had been the attack, it was met 
with wonderful skill and spirit. The besieged toppled over the 
scaling ladders and sent the climbers, stunned and bleeding, 
into the ditch ; rolled huge stones down upon them ; threw fire- 
pots (something like the modern hand-grenade), red-hot bands 
of iron, buckets of scorching ashes and brands, kettles of boiling 
oil or water, and reserved their arrows and missiles for other 
purposes. Even the women of the city aided in a dozen ways 
— some even using long lances at the walls. There were but 
few troops, as we know, in Orleans at this time, but every citizen 
became an active defender. Lord Suffolk had captured the 
outworks, one after the other, but had made no impression on the 
walls. His guns and those of the defenders were mainly used 
against life and limb. The cannon of the days prior to the siege 
of Constantinople (1453) had not proved effective against solid 
masonry, though some in use could throw stone balls of lOO 
pounds ; but these had not come into vogue in France. 

So long as the garrison could obtain provisions it was plain 
that they would hold out against him. His quickest, safest and 
best plan was to devote all his energies to shutting off every 



232 ORLEAXS. 

source of supply. This he did, but not so effectually as to pre- 
vent individuals or small parties from slipping through from 
time to time. Then, too, the river was open, and there was con- 
stant communication between the garrison and the advisers of 
Charles at Chinon. 

But that weak-spirited youth had by this time abandoned all 
hope. He had determined on leaving Orleans to its fate and 
seeking refuge for himself and his court in flight. The fortunes 
of France were at the very lowest ebb. Her men were ex- 
hausted and could not save her. Suddenly three women came 
to the fore. 

Mary of Anjou, wife of the dauphin, and by right Queen of 
France, was a wise and far-seeing woman. She had probably 
neither respect nor love for her husband, but she had for France. 
Agnes Sorel, beautiful and accomplished, the acknowledged 
mistress of the dauphin, and yet living in all amity under the 
same roof with his queen-wife, was as devoted to her native 
land. In hearty accord, in this matter at least, this strangely 
allied pair went diligently to work to overthrow their pusillan- 
imous master's determination — and succeeded. Had he fled, all 
hope would have abandoned France forever ; but, though they 
could not tell him how to send aid to Orleans, they made him 
stand his ground, and in doing it, Mary of Anjou and Agnes 
Sorel anchored the cause of France, at the instant when it was 
drifting upon the reefs of utter destruction. 

But who was to turn the tide, and then pilot the nation back 
to honor and prosperity? Three women, we have said, were 
the appointed instruments. Who was the third ? 

Way over to the northeast, in what is now German territorj', 
east of the city of Nancy, and well within the borders of peace- 
ful Lorraine, lay a' little village — Domremy; and few modern 
maps give any place to this insignificant hamlet, the birthplace 
and early home of the greatest heroine of military history. The 
world knows her as Joan of Arc, her parents had named her 
simply Jeannette. Of no one woman has more been written, 
said and sung. She has been the theme of historians for four 
centuries. Some have striven to rob her of her humblest vir- 



JEANNE OF ARC TO THE RESCUE. 233 

tues. Some have idealized her as a saint. Some describe her 
as a rude, uncouth, unsexed, middle-aged woman, performing all 
the menial stable-work of an hostler at an obscure country- 
tavern. Others give to her the charms of early youth, of mai- 
denly grace and intellectual beauty, and deny that her occupa- 
tion had ever been anything but that of a shepherdess. But one 
and all admit that truth, virtue and courage distinguished her 
throughout her eventful life. It is hard to select from the mass 
of authority the just estimate of her character; but, even Eng- 
lish historians, who have the strongest reasons for making her 
out anything but the saint others would have us believe, admit 
the utter purity of her martyred life. The days of chivalry were 
not dead in England. Never was woman more devotedly wor- 
shipped, more loyally defended, more reverently held than 
under knightly Edward the Third, when noble Philippa of 
Hainault shared his throne and commanded the homage of all 
manhood. Yet never was woman more brutally insulted, more 
hideously tortured than humble Joan of Arc by knights and 
clergy of the realm, not a century after Philippa had taught 
them to revere the very name of woman. It is their own fault 
if we will believe her as the French believed her : all youth, all 
innocence, all perfect ; and there are not lacking writers of sturdy 
old England, who gladly yield to her name all that wa.s claimed 
for it. 

Her youth had been all piety and purity of soul ; she was 
marked for her gentle devotion to the sick and the distressed. 
She was known by her devotion to the services of the church, 
the fervor of her religion. Hours of her every-day life were 
spent in the open fields, her only companions her flocks and her 
trusty dogs. She was ever dreamy, emotional, susceptible. 
Her own home was far removed from the track of war, had 
escaped all ravages ; but the talk of all comers was of the wrongs 
and sufferings of France, of the outrages of the hated English. 
She could think of nothing else. Angels came to her in her 
dreams; heavenly voices spoke to her at her daily vigils; 
visions appeared to her under the waving trees : all exhorted 
her to go to the rescue of France. It was the will of "God that 



234 ORLEANS. 

she should save her native land. How ? She knew not, but 
heaven would guide, and go she must. Then came tidings of 
the siege of Orleans, of the desperate straits of the dauphin's 
party to whom she and her neighbors were devotedly attached. 
Then the heavenly voice adjured her to go to the court, assure 
the young king that God himself had appointed her the instru- 
ment by means of which the English should be driven from 
France, and he, the king, should be crowned in state at Rheims, 
whither she would conduct him. 

Despite her parents' anger she left her home, appeared before 
the French commandant at Vaucouleurs, where, at first repulsed, 
she won upon the religious feelings of the soldier to such an ex- 
tent that, on his own responsibility, though urged and aided by 
all the populace, who had become inspired with her fervor, he 
sent her, with an armed escort, the long journey of three hun- 
dred miles through a hostile country to the court of Charles, 
at Chinon. It really seemed as though divine influences her- 
alded and guarded iier journey. Her fame went before her, 
spread like wild-fire over the land : "A virgin comes from the 
East — a virgin sent from heaven to rescue our land from the 
destroyer." Even the English speedily heard the rumors. 
Their religion was the same as that of the French. The mi- 
raculous was as possible in the minds of the one as the other, 
and crowds thronged along the road, and stronger grew her 
escort every day. 

Arrived at Chinon, she was admitted to speedy audience with 
the well-nigh hopeless dauphin. In order to test her claims to 
divine guidance and inspiration, all of which had preceded her, 
it was arranged that she should be summoned before a crowded 
court; that the king himself should appear dressed as one of his 
nobles, and in no way distinguishable from them among whom 
he was to stand. She entered, threw one quick glance around, 
then, unhesitatingly, singled him out, stepped quickly to him 
and dropped upon her knee. 

" My king, heaven sends me to drive the English from your 
land, and to lead you to your crown at Rheims, for you are to 
be God's vice-gerent in France." 




I()\N OP •\KC m)LM)LD 



INTENSE EXCITEMENT. 236 

Instantly the report went abroad that the holy maid had rec- 
B^nized the king by a miracle ; then, that she had demanded a 
certain sacred sword, kept in the Church of St. Catharine, at 
Fierbois, which she could never have seen, yet accurately de- 
scribed. Certain it is, that the dauphin was amazed at her con- 
fidence, her zeal, and her great intelligence. But other ordeals 
were tried. She was rigorously questioned by the clergy ; then 
by parliament at Poictiers ; and whether she succeeded in con- 
vincing these learned men of the divinity of her mission or not, 
it is beyond question that the impression produced was most 
powerful. Every day had added to the wonderful story. It 
had flown from mouth to mouth, growing with every repetition, 
and already so powerful was the faith of the people that here, 
indeed, was the God-ordained instrument of their relief, that 
king, clergy, parliament, even the noble dames of the court 
united in an enthusiastic welcome. Jeamie la Pucelle became 
the heroine of France. 

No time was to be lost. She shrank from and declined all 
ovations and banquets tendered her. She spent hours in soli- 
tary prayer and meditation while awaiting the day on which she 
could set forth, and then, clad in a magnificent suit of glistening 
white armor, and mounted on a spirited black charger, she left 
Chinon for the camp at Blois. 

All the court assembled to bid her God-speed ; clerg>' and 
nobles crowded to her side. She greeted all with gentle, modest 
grace ; her very mien was purity ; her face, unhelmeted, shone 
with intelligence and spirit ; her voice was low, soft and grave, 
yet she sat her horse with the consummate ease of one ever 
accustomed to the saddle ; perhaps it was this that made the 
English call her hostler. 

At Blois had been gathered a little remnant of an army, under 
Dunois (now recovered of his wound). La Hire and Xaintrailles, 
and with this force it was arranged that the Maid should march 
to the relief of Orleans, now wildly impatient for her coming. 
But first she proceeded to organize her command. All military 
details she left to her generals. Her sway was moral from the 
start. All abandoned characters were ordered from the camp. 



236 ORLEANS. 

Officers and soldiers were marched to confessional ; gaming, 
foul language and profanity were promptly punished. Chap- 
lains and priests were assigned to the army, and at every halt 
an altar was set up and the sacrament administered. She her- 
self spent hours in prayer, or in attentions to the sick and 
wounded. 

On the 25th of April the Maid, with her little army and her 
own brilliant retinue, which the dauphin had insisted upon her 
having, set out from Blois. On the night of the 28th she was 
in Orleans, unopposed. The English most unaccountably made 
no attempt to stop her, and their negligence is only explained 
by their chroniclers by the statement that they had ceased 
scouting the neighborhood some time before, and only kept 
watch on the town itself; and further, that on the night of the 
28th there was a furious rain-storm. 

Early on the morning of April 29th, with Dunois at her side, 
the Holy Maid rode through the crowded streets of the cit}'. 
She was clad in her brilliant armor, her light battle-axe was at 
her side, her sacred sword hung upon her left, her lance was 
wielded with easy grace, while before her was borne the beautiful 
white banner which soon became inseparable from her every move- 
ment. It was of costly satin, richly embroidered in gold with 
fleiir-de-lis , and bearing the words " Jhesus Maria." Following 
in her train were her chaplain, her esquires and heralds ; and 
around her, pouring from every house, thronged the enthusiastic 
people. They knelt about her as she addressed them, bidding 
them be of good cheer, to put their trust in God who would 
soon deliver them from their enemies. She herself then rode 
directly to the cathedral, where a solemn Tc Dewn was chanted 
This was the woman whom the English were now execrating as 
an emissary of the devil, but the people of Orleans believed her 
an angel sent from heaven. 

And now came the time for action. The English were 
astounded at the news of her presence in the city, and for a few 
days seemed paralyzed. Profiting by their stupor, the Maid 
sent word to hurry in some needed provision-trains, and they 
were not even molested by the besiegers. An old prophecy 



"GO IN PEACE, ENGLISHMEN." 237 

was revived, that a virgin from Lorraine was to save France ; 
and the EngHsh were to the full as superstitious as the French. 

She had sent written messages and heralds to the besiegers, 
calling upon them, in the name of God, to give up the cities they 
had taken, and to fall back from France ; but her messages were 
received with disdain. Unwilling to shed blood, the gentle 
woman now determined to make a personal appeal before re- 
sorting to arms. 

The Tourelles were only a short distance from the southern- 
most ramparts of Orleans. They were still held by the English. 
Indeed, one of the highest chiefs and noblest of their knights. 
Sir William Gladsdale, was there in command. The ringing 
notes of a trumpet on the walls of Orleans, sounding a parley, 
called him hastily to the top of the tower, followed by many of 
his officers. 

On the opposite battlement there appeared a slender form, 
clad in spotless armor, and the uncovered head, with its long, 
jet black hair, its fair, sweet face, was that of a woman. All 
was stilled as the soft, girlish voice came floating across the 
ruined bridge : " Go in peace. Englishmen ; in heaven's name I, 
Jeamie la Pucelle, bid you go. The God we both worship warns 
you to leave these walls and France. Safe conduct attends you 
if you leave, shame and woe if you remain." 

Every tone, every word and gesture breathed of purity and 
gentleness, of earnest piety. It is inconceivable that her brief 
harangue should have excited aught but courtesy and respect, 
but to the shame, to the utter disgrace of English knighthood, 
Sir William himself first bade her go back to the stable where 
she belonged ; then added words so foul, so full of brutal, 
beastly insult, that in amaze and shame the poor girl burst into 
tears ; and then the other English gentlemen, truckling to the 
example of their leader, burst into a chorus of ribald jests, 
under which she sank back from the wall, terrified and utterly 
overcome. 

There was no more thought of mediation. Bidding her sol- 
diers strike hard and strike home, Joan of Arc gave the word to 
attack the most available point on the English line of circum- 



238 ORLEANS. 

vallation. It was chosen at the bastille of St. Loup. Dunois 
led the assault in person, but, wishing to spare her, had not noti- 
fied the Maid of the hour. She was at nome — at prayer, when 
the noise of the conflict reached ner. She instantly ordered her 
horse, and in a few moments, banner in hand, was spurring to 
the gates. There she met the soldiers streaming back. They 
had been sternly repulsed with severe loss, but at sight of hef 
and her sacred banner, halted, rallied and, led on by the Maid 
herself, renewed the assault. Superstition must have unnerved 
the garrison of St. Loup this time, for it was taken by storn? 
almost instantly, and the English were put to the sword. 

Fancy the triumph, the wild excitement, the renewed adora- 
tion of that emotional populace at this marvellous success. The 
battle once over — her first battle-field — all the scene of carnage 
and suffering preved too much for the gentle nature of the girl. 
She is said to have fainted at the sight of the pools of blood, 
and to have spent the entire night in prayers for the souls of the 
slain. 

Two days afterward Dunois and La Hire, with a strong at- 
tacking force, suddenly crossed the Loire in boats and, with the 
Holy Maid again leading, charged and carried by escalade the 
two strong bastilles of St. Jean de Blanc and Augustius. This 
time there was no repulse at all, but the Maid was slightl)- 
wounded in the heel. Again the enthusiasm of the soldiers was 
unbounded. The Tourelles was now the only fortification held 
by the English south of the Loire, but it was by far the strong- 
est and most difficult of assault, yet it was determined to strike 
while the iron was hot, and before it could be reinforced. 

At daybreak on the 7th of May, a selected body of troops, all 
of vvhom had attended mass and confessional and received abso- 
lution, were ferried across the Loire. They numbered about 
2,500, and were led b}' La Pucelle herself In a few moments 
they had surrounded the tete-dii-poitt which, with the Tourelles, 
was held by Gladsdale and the very best and bravest of the 
English army. Here ensued a terrible battle, both sides fight- 
ing with determined valor, the Holy Maid leading on her men 
and cheering them with her words. 



THE MAID WOUNDED. 239 

Attempting to scale the wall by means of a ladder, she became 
the mark of an English archer, who, bending over, sent an arrow 
whizzing into her shoulder. Bleeding, stricken, faint, she reeled 
and fell backward intp the ditch, and a terrible panic seized the 
French. With wild cheering the word was passed among the 
English that the Maid was killed, and a rush was made to obtain 
her body. But in their retreat the French had borne her with 
them far to the rear, where presently she revived, and with her 
own hands drew out the arrow. Then^ smiling despite her pain, 
she bade them rest, eat and drink, and be ready to renew the 
attack, for, said she, " By my God ! you shall soon enter there." 
Then after a while, with her banner before her, she led them to a 
new assault, assuring them that the instant that banner touched 
the wall they would scale the parapet. The English, aghast at 
her apparent resurrection, made a fainter resistance. Then fresh 
troops from within the city laid planks across the broken arches 
of the bridge and assailed the Tourelles from the north. Joan 
with her banner touched the southern wall and the garrison, 
unable to defend both sides at once, gave way. The French 
swarmed up the scaling ladders, Joan among the foremost, and 
the first man she met was the knight commander who had so 
foully insulted her. He was hastening back from the bridge- 
head to the defence of the Tourelles, when she with her men 
came pouring over the wall. " Surrender to heaven," she cried ; 
" you have cruelly wronged me, but I pity your soul. Sur- 
render — " but at that instant a cannon shot carried away the 
planking beneath his feet. Stunned and helpless he fell into the 
dark waters underneath, and the brave Sir William Gladsdale, as 
staunch and valiant a soldier as England ever sent forth, and as 
true a knight until he stained his lips with that foul retort, 
drowned like a cur in sight of the woman he had insulted. 

And now with Les Tourelles once more their own, all Orleans 
went wild with joy. Services were held in all the churches. It 
was as much as the gentle Maid could do to prevent the over- 
joyed people from worshipping her as they would a saint. Bon- 
fires, illuminations, and even a banquet were indulged in. 
Couriers were sent off to Charles at Chinon with the glorious 
16 



240 ORLEANiS. 

tidings. Even were strong reinforcements to come to the Eng- 
lish now — what mattered it? Under her divine leadership 
Orleans could overthrow the world. 

But it was a bitter night in the English camp. All was dread, 
all was vague uneasiness. Superstitious fears were aroused. 
Supernatural powers were in league with France, said the 
soldiers, and they had lost all heart. Talbot, their best and 
bravest leader on the northern side, urged a retreat, and early 
on the morrow, to the joy of Orleans, the last English forts were 
seen in flames, and their armies slowly falling back to the north- 
ward. Eagerly the soldiers clamored to be led in pursuit, but 
the Maid refused. It was Sunday. They were allowed to go 
in peace, while she and her followers rendered humble thanks 
to God for their great deliverance. The siege of Orleans was 
raised. 

And now the wave of English invasion that had threatened 
to engulf all France had first been broken on the banks of the 
Loire and then began to recede. Six thousand gallant men had 
been sacrificed around the walls of the old city and all in vain. 
The haughtiest nation on earth was falling back before a woman. 
It was all very well to say that God or the devil was at her back. 
She was their conqueror, and they could make no stand against 
toldiers led by that mystical white banner. Following rapidly 
she again defeated them at Jergean, where, though knocked 
ienseless for a moment, she never left the fight, and found as 
her chief prisoner the high-born Earl of Suffolk, late com- 
mander of the besiegers of Orleans. Then came the recapture 
of Troyes. Then a superb victory in open field at Patay, on the 
l8th of June (how the English paid it- back on that same day 
of that same month at Waterloo). Here two more splendid 
soldiers, Talbot and Scales, became her prisoners, while a third. 
Sir John Fastolffe, charged with leading the retreat by his irate 
monarch, was deprived for a time of that dearly prized honor 
awarded in those days only to twenty-five of the most valiant 
soldiers of the realm — the Order of the Garter. 

And now the Maid of Orleans, as she has ever since been 
called, returned to the dauphin whom she had so eminently and 



THE KING CROWNED. " 241 

faithfully served. One-half her promise to him had been 
redeemed within three months — the complete relief of Orleans, 
She had still to see him crowned at Rheims, and within anothei 
three months this, too, was accomplished. 

With pomp and ceremony and all the sacred rites of the 
Romish Church, with the Holy Maid and her blessed banner 
by his side, this man born and made and saved of women was 
anointed King of France, Defender of the Faith ; and Joan o*" 
Arc, kneeling before him and embracing his royal and shaky 
knees, shed tears of pure and humble joy at this consummation 
of her great mission. No doubt of its genuineness ever entered 
her mind. It was accomplished, and now in ail humility she 
begged permission to lay aside her warlike garb, and return to 
her rustic home, her peaceful avocations and her prayers. 

But they would not let her go. France was not yet free. The 
hated Duke of Bedford still held Paris, and strong forces of 
English were in Normandy. All neighboring France hastened 
to avow its allegiance to fortunate King Charles the Seventh, 
and large armies were being gathered to drive out the de- 
tested islanders. No ! the Maid of Orleans must complete the 
work she had so admirably begun, and royal would be her 
reward. 

And so, as though still hearing her Fleavenly Voices, she went 
back to the army, served bravely and zealously in the attack of 
several strong places, was severely wounded before the walls of 
Paris, and then the army of King Charles, mostly volunteers, 
concluded to disband and go home while the forces of Bedford 
and the Burgundians were gaining strength. At Compeigne the 
wounded Maid was taken prisoner by the exultant Burgundians, 
who not knowing exactly what to do with her, sold her for 
lavish English gold to the Duke of Bedford. 

Some black deeds of wrong and oppression have stained the 
fair fame of the great English nation, but blackest, foulest of all, 
was the humiliation, the ignominy, the indignities, indecencies, 
suffering, trial, tortures and death at the stake to which this poor, 
stricken, friendless girl was condemned by them. They carried 
her to Rouen — far from possible rescue, even had the craven king 



^2 ORLEANS. 

shte Tiiade,dare attempt such a thing, and he failed her utterly; 
he never so much as made the feeblest protest. She had been an 
honoraole, chivalrous, merciful enemy. England loaded her 
with chcilns and curses ; denied her the rites of the church 
that was her life, and burned her to death in the market-place 
at Rouen, May 30, 1431. So perished the Maid of Orleans. 

After thi=. it is pleasing to record that the cause of England in 
France went rapidly to pieces. They were whipped on several 
fields. The JDuke of Bedford died the following September, and 
their hold or -Al points south of the channel was soon lost to 
them entirely 




MONUMENT TO JOAN OF .ARC IN ROUEN. 

(Erected on the spot wliere she was burnt.) 



CONSTANTINOPLE. 




.OUNDED, as is believed, almost on the site 
of ancient Byzantium, which itself was three 
times besieged, the city of Constantinople 
occupies, from a military or strategical 
standpoint, a position which is unrivalled 
in its importance. There is no scope in 
these merely descriptive sketches for a dis- 
cussion of its vast political value. The 
" Eastern Question " is one which the states- 
men of Europe will probably wrangle over until the millennium ; 
but the western powers of Europe have always jealously watched 
any and every attempt on the part of Russia to possess herself 
of the key to the straits of the Bosphorus. When told that his 
once ally and sworn friend, the Tsar Alexander of Russia, de- 
sired to gain it, Napoleon the Great excitedly sprang to his feet, 
saying, "Constantinople! Never — it is the empire of the world." 
For all time since, it has seemed far better to let this historic 
city remain in the hands of the infidel Turks than that Russia 
should have it ; and, on the other hand, Russia would never 
consent to its becoming the property of any western power of 
Europe. 

Naturally this valuable position has been the scene of frequent 
and desperate fighting. Beside the three sieges of ancient 
Byzantium, history tells us of no less than five similar afflictions 
that have fallen on the modern city, the once proud capital of 
the Eastern Empire of Rome, the seat and court of the first 
Christian Emperor Constantine. The savage Huns assailed it 
in 559, but were terribly beaten by the great soldier Belisarius, 

(243) 



244 CONSTANTINOPLE. 

An Asiatic tribe assailed it in 670 and were beaten back with 
loss. Repeating the experiment two years later, they were even 
more roughly handled. Then in 1203 came the great siege of 
the Crusaders during their fifth attempt upon the strongholds of 
the Saracens. But greatest of all, most important, most lasting 
in its results, was the fifth siege of Constantinople proper, and 
this is the one which it is proposed briefly he.-e to describe. 
It was the siege of 1453. 

For eight hundred years the followers of the prophet under 
their many titles, Mussulmans, Saracens, Mohammedans, even 
those of infidels, or, briefly, Turks, had been waging war against 
the Christian nations of Europe. Sometimes attacking, some- 
times defending, they had at last succeeded in establishing them- 
selves firmly in northern Africa, western Asia, and portions of 
Turkey in Europe, and were now in a position to resume the 
offensive. Their first aim was Constantinople, which they had 
been eagerly watching for years. 

The once proud capital was in a state of decline. It had still 
an immense population, but its vigor was gone. It was no 
longer the heart of the Eastern Empire. It stood now on the 
outer edge of Christendom, a great walled city, still presided 
over by an emperor bearing the same name as him who founded 
it; but Roman energy, manhood, wisdom, all seemed gone; an 
indolent, sensual and dreamy race had grown up in place of 
the old populace. They were now mainly Greeks, and a Greek 
form of the Catholic religion had taken root in Constantinople, 
which soon resulted in the establishment of the Greek Church 
as opposed to that of Rome. 

Finding from the preparations of the Turks all along the 
straits of the Bosphorus and the Dardanelles as well as to the 
west, that trouble threatened his exposed capital, the Emperor 
Constantine sent to Rome for aid. He had as a garrison five 
or six thousand utterly unreliable soldiers, taken from the very 
dregs of the people. He received some support, it is true, from 
a small contingent of European troops under the Genoese Jus- 
tinian, but these were all the defenders he could call upon for 
a population utterly incapable of defending itself. Presently he 



BESIEGED BY SULTAN MOHAMMED 11. 245 

learned that the Turks were building a formidable castle on the 
Bosphorus, and, still more alarmed, he called upon his wealthy 
men to subscribe funds for raising troops and putting the walls 
and armament in a condition for defence, but the easy-going 
Greeks would not rouse themselves to any effort. Rome would 
help them out, they said, and a grand crusade would be inau- 
gurated in their defence. Cardinal Isidore hastened from Rome to 
look into the situation. A union of the two churches was sug- 
gested as a preliminary move. The cardinal held service in the 
Church of St. Sophia according to the ritual of Rome, and the 
whole population stormed at him with abuse. He had come to 
help them, but they declared they would rather see the infidels 
in St. Sophia than the hat of a Romish cardinal. 

Naturally, no help came from Rome after that, and Con- 
stantinople was left to fight her own battle. It came soon 
enough. 

Sultan Mohammed II. was at the head of the great Mussul- 
man nation, with his capital at Adrianople. He had spent two 
years in preparation, and now, with 400,000 men, he marched 
upon the doomed capital. Most of these troops were nothing 
but slaves, newly conquered people, for whom he had use, as 
will be seen. His reliable soldiers were some 30,000 light cav- 
alry and 60,000 foot. With these he brought the most ponder- 
ous and powerful artillery the world had yet seen. The Greeks 
had refused employment to a Hungarian, who had offered to 
build gun-carriages and manufacture cannon for them ; so he 
went further, and found an eager patron in Mohammed. The 
sultan asked him if he could make a gun powerful enough to 
breach the walls of Constantinople, which were of solid masonry. 
Assured that he could, orders were given at once. A foundry 
was established at Adrianople, and the most extraordinary gun 
ever known was turned out in three months. " Its bore was 
twelve palms, and it was capable of throwing a ball or stone 
weighing six hundred pounds." When it was tested, notifica- 
tion was sent all over the neighboring country, so as to prevent 
panic. The explosion shook up everything within a radius of 
twenty miles, and the ball was thrown over a mile and buried 



246 COiNfSTANTINOPLt;. 

itself deep in the ground. Thirty wagons hnked together 
formed the travelling-carriage of this monster; sixty horses 
drew it, and two hundred men walked by its sides to keep it 
from rolling off Two hundred and fifty men went before to 
clear and level the way, and it took two months to drag it one 
hundred and fifty miles. 

Besides this Goliath of a gun, the Hungarian cast for the sul- 
tan several smaller ones, what we would call two-hundred 
pounders, for such was the weight of the shot they threw. It 
was with an immensely powerful siege-train, therefore, that he 
appeared before the walls of Constantinople, marching so as to 
completely encircle them by land. 

At the same time his fleet appeared at the Dardanelles — two 
hundred and fifty sail ; and though great iron chains barred their 
way, it is affirmed that, with a degree of energy and engineering 
skill that proved a complete surprise to the Christians, he suc- 
ceeded in one night in drawing eighty of his vessels around the 
chains and launching them above. It took six miles of greased 
planks and an immense force of men, but the feat was accom- 
plished, and on the following day the galleys were floating in 
the harbor of Constantinople. 

And now, while his army hemmed in the city from the west, and 
his fleet anchored under the walls on the side of the Bosphorus, 
the young sultan (he was only twenty-three) set to work build- 
ing his breaching batteries. For the first time in military his- 
tory solid masonry was to be made to crumble under the mis- 
siles of the artillery. The siege was opened about the second 
week in April, and by the end of that month every point of the 
walls, some twelve miles in circumference, was covered by the 
enclosing lines. 

Small as was the garrison, Constantine was brave. The 
Genoese leader, Gian Justiniani, was a skilled soldier, and his 
two thousand countrymen proved worth their weight in gold. 
The Turks built batteries on the side of the Bosphorus, but it 
was a long time before they got their guns into position; mean- 
time they resorted to the expedient of mining and blowing up 
the walls, but here they were foiled by the vigilance of the 



A GENERAL ASSAULT ORDERED. 247 

Greeks. Once thoroughly convinced of their danger, the people 
seem to have behaved for a time with great spirit. They confi- 
dently expected the coming of a relieving army from Hungary, 
under Hunyadi. Countermines were dug, the Turks driven off; 
vigorous sorties were made in the night time, and so well did 
they fight that, it is said, Mohammed at one time seriously 
thought of giving up the project. 

By this time, however, the siege-guns were well at work, and, 
being planted only a short distance away from the walls, began 
to knock huge breaches into the masonry. Mohammed, there- 
fore, determined not to go without one grand effort. First, 
however, he proposed terms to Constantine. 

Ever since 1366 the Turks had virtually held all the country 
around Constantinople and up the valleys of the Danube to the 
borders of Hungary. Adrianople, on the Maritza, about one 
hundred miles west of the Bosphorus, was their great city. " I 
desire to spare Constantinople," was the sultan's message to the 
emperor. " Bombardment and assault can only result in its 
utter destruction. Give up to me the Peloponnesus and I will 
raise the siege and leave you and your capital in peace." 

Constantine replied that he would rather be buried in its 
ruins ; and a general assault was ordered for the following day. 

There were some twenty gates to be defended besides the 
breaches that had been made in the walls, and the garrison well 
knew that it would call for all their strength and valor. Both 
Christian and infidel prepared themselves by religious ceremo- 
nies for the ordeal, and at three o'clock on the morning of the 
29th of May the grand attack began. 

It was the custom of the Turks to send in their prisoners of 
war in large numbers among the first assailants of a fortified 
position. Not, of course, prisoners from the people whom they 
were then fighting, but those of other nations or tribes brought 
from a distance. The theory was that, inspired by promises of 
liberty and reward if they were successful, and closely watched 
to prevent treachery, these poor creatures would fight desper- 
ately. If they succeeded, well and good ; the Turks would 
then pour in unopposed upon their tracks. If they failed, the 



248 CONSTANTINOPLE. 

Turks sustained no loss, and the dead bodies served to fill up 
the ditches and moats, while the garrison itself must be more or 
less wearied by its efforts, and therefore all the less able to with- 
stand a genuine attack hours later. 

Some 200,000 of these involuntary volunteers seem to have 
been employed, therefore, on this assault in force, beginning at 
the earliest peep of day on that warm May morning. For 
hours the savage battle raged ; the ships and sailors and the 
guns on the Bosphorus side making vigorous play to keep the 
garrison occupied while the main attack went on north, west 
and south. Driven in to the assault, with whip and sword, the 
poor " allies " were butchered front and rear. All the merciless 
engines of defence that had been conspicuous at Acre and at Or- 
leans were employed against them, while the stern Janissaries, 
out of harm's way themselves, kept prodding them on. An in- 
credible number were killed, and the faint-hearted attack was 
unsuccessful. 

But it had wearied the defenders, and now while the day was 
still young the trumpets rang out the signal for the grand as- 
sault. Nearly 100,000 fresh and disciplined troops formed for 
the attack ; the great guns thundered their last salute to the 
walls, the huge stones crashing in among the rocks and timbers, 
sending splinters flying in every direction and raising great 
clouds of dust ; the lighter guns swept the walls of their de- 
fenders, and then, under cover of the cannonade, the Mussulman 
lines rushed in. Some headed for the now bloody and corpse- 
strewn gaps in the walls ; others boldly advanced with scaling 
ladders. It was the last chance for Constantine, and he himself 
fought foremost at the main breach against which came the 
brunt of the attack. The few guns of the city that could be 
brought to bear dealt havoc among the dense masses of the 
Turks, but they could not be worked fast enough. Fire-balls, 
burning timbers, rocks and ashes were hurled down on the as- 
sailants. Darts, arrows and lances whizzed through the breaches 
at the attacking columns, but those fiery, fate-impelled Janissaries 
stopped for nothing. The sultan had promised that the first 
man over the walls should be made a pasha and that bravery 



THE CITY TAKEN AND PILLAGED. 249 

should be rewarded. He had promised the pillage of the entire 
city to his army, bidding them spare only the fine public build- 
ings. There was every incitement for the brutal Mussulman 
soldiery, and at last a body of Janissaries succeeded in reaching 
the top of the wall. The people made a rush to drive them 
back and hurl them into the ditch, but they clung to the ground 
like bull-dogs, while others of their comrades swarmed up the 
ladders to their support. Soon they were able to dash in with 
their scimitars upon the ill-armed inhabitants who confronted 
them, and a few moments more had sent them fleeing in terror 
through the streets. Fast as the Janissaries poured over the walL 
at this point their officers led them right and left to attack the 
gate-guards in rear, and speedily through half a dozen ports 
thus won, the Mussulman soldiery came swarming. The flag of 
the Crescent was raised on the walls, and, catching sight of this, 
the sailors of the fleet redoubled their energies, and soon suc- 
ceeded in scaling a high tower on the harbor side. Then Con- 
stantine, looking about him in wild despair, saw that all was over 
with his capital. The people who would not heed his warnings 
were doomed to a terrible fate. He threw himself among the 
defenders at the nearest gate, and bravely, desperately fighting, 
there received his death-wound, just as Zagan Pasha with his 
sailors came swarming over the eastern wall. The Empire of the 
East, which had existed eleven hundred and forty-three years, 
went down with Constantine, for in half an hour the Turk was 
master of the capital. 

Of the horrors that followed it is useless to speak. Resisting 
men were butchered ; others simply herded into slave-pens for 
the time being. Women were everywhere given up to outrage 
or death ; children were slain as useless and in the way. Pillage, 
plunder and rapine ran riot for the promised three days and 
nights, then Mohammed sternly bade it cease. Riding through 
the blood-stained streets on his white charger, he himself re- 
stored order and discipline. Those prominent citizens who had 
escaped with their lives were brought before him, and, to their 
amaze, were sent back to their homes to build up anew their 
fortunes under Mussulman protection. To many, restoration was 



250 



CONSTANTINOPLE. 



made of such of their property as could be identified in the spoil. 
To all, Mohammed held out inducements to remain and restore 
the commerce and prosperity of the great city which he assured 
them was to be made his capital. Even their religion, it was 
promised, should be left them, and in this way the conqueror 
succeeded in re-establishing almost immediately the arts of peace 
in the great city he had won. 

Forty thousand men perished in the siege. Sixty thousand 
among the poorer inhabitants were made prisoners and driven 
off to do elsewhere the work of the Mussulmans. Masters of 
Asia and Africa, they had now won the proudest capital of East- 
ern Europe, the command of the gateway to tlie Black Sea, the 
shores of southern Russia and the mouth of the Danube. Of 
all their conquests this was the most important and most lasting, 
for it endures to this day, and well might the young sultan be 
named, as he was then named, Mohammed Bujuk — The Great. 




SlEGt or CONSTANTINOPLE 




ENTRY OF MOHAMMED II. INTO CONSTANTINOPLE, MAY 29, 1453, 
{Benjamin Constant.) 



LEIPSIC. 




1631. 

.HE THIRTY YEARS' WAR comes next ir. 
chronological order on the list of great events 
in military history. It began in a religious 
struggle, originally between the German 
Protestants and their Roman Catholic country- 
men. Austria and Spain were gradually 
drawn in on the Catholic side and were allies 
throughout, generally under the name of the 
Imperialists, against various antagonists. It 
began in 161 8 and lasted until 1648, and during that time some 
of the most illustrious names in soldierly chronicles achieved 
their greatest prominence and their undying renown. Among 
these Gustavus Adolphus, Wallenstein, Tilly, Montecuculi, Tu- 
renne and Conde were the most celebrated ; and of the incessant 
fighting going on, whole volumes larger than this might easily 
be written. The greatest battles were those of Prague, Leipsic, 
Liitzen and the second affair at Nordlingen, but space will 
permit the description of only two or three of the battles of 
even so renowned a war as this. 

The theatre of operations was pretty much all over Germany 
and Bohemia from the Rhine to the Oder, though occasionally 
the Austrian dominions were invaded. 

Ferdinand II. of Styria had stamped out the Protestant religion 
in his native province. Tlu Protestant Elector- Palatine, Fred- 
erick v., was chosen King of Bohemia, and was then driven out 
by the Emperor of Austria. The Duke of Bavaria and the 
Princes of the League joined forces with Ferdinand II. The 
Protestants generally took up arms for Frederick, and the Im- 

(251J 



252 LEiPsic. 

perialists opened the ball by overwhelming victories won by 
Maximilian and Tilly at Prague, Dessau and Lutter. The Protes- 
tant cause was hopeless unless outside aid should come, and had 
Ferdinand been at all politic, there would have been no danger 
of that, but his head was turned with his marked success. He 
offended even his own friends and allies, and speedily succeeded 
in giving mortal offence to Gustavus Adolphus, King of Sweden, 
and a new and very different phase was taken by the war when 
this vigorous young monarch decided to lend his aid to the 
cause of his Protestant neighbors across the Baltic. 

Gustavus Adolphus was born in Stockholm Castle, December 
9th, 1 594. He was trained with the utmost care, and with strict 
discipline of mind and body. He spoke German, French, Italian 
and Latin with fluency when a mere boy, and understood Eng- 
lish, Spanish, Polish and Russian ; while his favorite studies were 
historical, and those which dealt with the art of war. He grew 
tall, strong and hardy, and was of a religious temperament from 
his boyhood. In 1604 he was elected Crown Prince of Sweden, 
and when just eighteen became king. Wars with Russia and 
Poland early occupied his attention and developed his martial 
talents ; but during an interval of peace, just before becoming 
involved with the latter nation, he thoroughly reorganized his 
army and wrote his celebrated articles of war. 

Gustavus Adolphus was at once the regenerator of ancient 
military discipline and the father of that which is maintained to 
this day. More than this : he was the great innovator of his 
century. He made more changes, brought about more improve- 
ments, and did more to advance the art of war than all the other 
leaders of his time combined ; and Napoleon says he was one 
of the eight great generals of the world. 

Briefly it may be said that in restoring disciplined order to 
the movements of his armies, he adopted the elasticity of the 
Roman system in preference to the solidity of the Greek." In 
other ways, too, he copied after the Romans. He fortified his 
camp at night, and the most rigid discipline was exacted, espe- 
cially among guards and sentinels. His articles of war, 150 in 
number, began with injunctions for the cultivation of reverence for 



NEW TACTICS OF GUSTA\US. 253 

religion in the army. Divine service was celebrated daily- 
Duels were stopped, profanity, gambling, immorality of every 
kind checked, and pillage of captured towns placed under proper 
restrictions. 

It was in his reorganization, however, that Gustavus Adolphus 
made the most radical blows at existing systems. Fire-arms had 
long since come into common use, and at the time of the 
Thirty Years' War all the European infantry were accustomed 
to " matchlocks." On the continent, infantry regiments were 
from two to three thousand strong — very unwieldy bodies ; 
Gustavus reduced his to l,008 men each, exclusive of officers, 
eight companies (126 men) to the regiment. They were divided 
into musketeers (576), and pikemen (432). The former carried 
the matchlock (which Gustavus greatly lightened during the 
Polish war, and which was very soon superseded by the flint- 
lock), and a short curved sword. The helmet was the mus- 
keteer's only defensive armor. The pikeman, however, had hel- 
met, cuirass and thigh-pieces, and carried a sword or else a light 
axe besides the pike, which, improved by Gustavus, was made 
of aspen, poplar or good fir, tipped with highly tempered steel. 
In charging, the pike was held, like the sarissa of old, with both 
hands, left hand in front. In resisting charge of cavalry, the 
butt rested against the right foot, the left hand steadied it, point 
at height of the breast or neck, while the soldier held his drawn 
sword or axe in the right hand. Gustavus drew up his infantry 
six deep, reducing the depth from ten ranks, as was the formation 
in other armies. 

The cavalry under the young King of Sweden had to undergo 
many changes. He was the first to organize (in 1625) the 
hitherto independent troops into regiments, eight troops of 66 or 
72 men (half the usual size for the troop of those days) form- 
ing a regiment, which, not exceeding 575 men, was easily 
handled by a skillful officer. The imperial cavalry of the Ger- 
man army was formed (under Wallenstein) ten deep for cuiras- 
siers, six for light cavalry. Count Tilly reduced this to eight 
and five respectively, but Gustavus went still further. His 
cavalry at first formed four deep, but soon reduced even that to 
three. 



254 LEIPSIC. 

And it was Gustavus who first taught cavahy the true princi- 
ples of charging. The continental system seemed to be for the 
regiment to ride up at sharp trot or gallop, until close to the 
enemy, when the first line would fire its pistols ; if the enemy 
broke, the charge was continued. If not, the line rode off 
right and left, and the second line whirled up and repeated the 
performance ; and if the enemy did not break by the time the 
third line had tried it, the attempt was abandoned. Gustavus 
taught his cavalry to fire as they approached, but never to waver 
or halt; to draw swords at once and charge home, and depend on 
the shock and the keen edge of the weapon. 

But it was in field-artillery Gustavus made the greatest change. 
He found it very clumsy and heavy, difficult to move. He made 
it comparatively light and effective, first by the introduction of 
" leather guns," and afterwards by very lightly cast guns of iron 
or bronze. The " leather guns " were made of a light copper 
tube, strengthened by snugly fitting bars of iron of the same 
length riveted to it by heavy rings. This was tightly wound 
with strong cord cemented with coatings of mastic, and the 
whole covered by a leathern jacket. Two men could carry it, 
and a very tough little field-piece it made. They soon got 
heated in firing, however, and were discarded after Leipsic. 
Gustavus Adolphus introduced the system of having some light 
guns in each heavy field-batterj-', because the small guns could 
keep up a rapid fire, and when in retreat could be kept back to 
play upon the pursuers, while the large guns were being drawn 
out of harm's way. 

As yet uniforms for regiments had not been generally adopted 
in the Swedish army except for the Life Guards, but in 1627 the 
king had the doublets stained or dyed with different colors for 
each division, while the regiments were named the blue, green, 
red or yellow, from the color of the standard of each. 

Such were the main points introduced by Gustavus Adolphus 
into military organization in the seventeenth century. In 1624 
the military force of Sweden was reckoned at 36,000 foot and 
4,400 horse. 

The Thirty Years' War was twelve years old when the King 



GUSTAVUS INVADES THE EMPIRE. 255 

of Sweden decided to take a hand. German writers are prone 
to say that grasping ambition led him into it. But the Germans 
themselves implored his aid, and it was not until Catholic 
aggressions had made the war " the common concern of Europe 
and mankind," that he invaded the empire. He could bring but 
a small army with him, but it was disciplined and well trained. 
Eleven regiments of foot and two of cavalry embarked with him 
from Sweden. Other regiments that had been on duty in 
Poland were ordered to meet him. He took with him thirty- 
six field-guns (12 and 24-pounders) and some heavy " batterie.^ 
of position," 44-pounders, and, with a force not exceeding 15,000 
men, he landed on the island of Usedom, on the coast of Pome- 
rania, on Midsummer Day, 1630. His first move, after devout 
thanks and prayers to the Almighty, was to get control of the 
mouths of the Oder. Then a treaty was made with the Duke 
of Pomerania, who furnished some infantry (the White Brigade) 
and a money contribution. Then, 8,000 reinforcements having 
reached him from Prussia, he advanced boldly into the interior, 
brilliantly outmancEuvred and whipped the Imperialists near 
Rostock (to the vast astonishment of the Italian, Savelli, who 
led them), captured Gartz and Greiffenhagen, driving the Impe- 
rialist army before him; and, early in 163 1, Frankfort-on-the- 
Oder was in his possession. 

All this had been accomplished by rapid and brilliant march- 
ing and fighting, with a very small army compared to the forces 
under control of the Imperialists (Wallenstein alone had 100,000 
men) ; and the name of Gustavus Adolphus began to be looked 
upon with dread and respect. By the end of February, 1631, in 
the space of eight months, he had taken eighty cities and 
strongholds in Pomerania and Mecklenburg. 

And now the Imperialist, General Tilly, with a strong force, 
set out to put a stop to this damaging array of successes for the 
Protestant cause. He laid siege to the city of Magdeburg, car- 
ried it by assault, and forever tarnished his reputation by the 
frightful scenes of pillage and slaughter which he permitted at 
the expense of the inhabitants. Gustavus reached the Elbe too 
late to relieve the city, but not too late to punish Tilly. The 
17 



256 LEIPSIC. 

latter, with 26,000 men, ventured to attack the King of Sweden 
in his intrenched camp, where the garrison was only 16,000, but 
the lesson should have opened his eyes. Unused to defeat, it 
was with rage that Tilly saw his troops scattered in disorderlj- 
flight, leaving hundreds of their number dead upon the ground. 
Their next meeting was before the city of Leipsic, which Tilly 
menaced with an army of 40,000 men. 

Leipsic lies in the northwestern corner of Saxony, near a 
branch of the river Saal. Several small villages surrounded it, 
and near one of these, Breitenfeld, from two to three miles north 
of the city, the army of Tilly was encamped. The city had sur- 
rendered to him and now lay to his right. The troops of the 
Protestants were still on the eastern side of the Elbe awaiting 
negotiations between the King of Sweden and the Duke of 
Saxony. Gustavus Adolphus had nearly 20,000 men at Wit- 
tenberg, on the Elbe. The Saxon army, about the same 
strength, was at Torgau. Leipsic, Wittenberg and Torgau 
formed a triangle, which, though not equilateral, was so nearly 
so that, had Tilly possessed the vim and brilliancy which had 
Deen reputed to him as characteristics of his generalship, he 
could easily, in two days' short marches, have thrown his 35,000 
on either one of these forces, and the Saxons at least would have 
been utterly whipped ; but for some unaccountable reason Tilly 
held back, permitted an alliance to be made between the King 
of Sweden and the Duke of Saxony, and, on the 4th of Septem- 
ber, their armies advanced from the Elbe and united at Diiben, 
on the Mulda, only nine miles northeast of Leipsic. On the 
6th of September they halted in full view of the position of 
Tilly, and camped for the night. 

With a little less than 40,000 men apiece, the two most re- 
nowned generals of the day were about to grapple in a battle 
that each felt must be decisive. If anything, Tilly had the 
greater reason for confidence. He had faith in the devotion and 
valor of all his troops, and was going to fight on the defensive. 
Gustavus Adolphus, with good reason, distrusted the stability 
of the Saxons, " his left arm," and would be compelled, he saw, 
to take the initiative. 



CONFIDENCE OF TILLY. 257 

Running nortb and south, though more nearly northwest to 
southeast, was a •■ange of heights, at the upper end of which 
stood Breitenfeld, and beyond that the httle village of Linden- 
thai. Tilly placed not only his " batteries of position " on these 
heights, but also his light guns, while, in one long line, from 
opposite Lindenthal down to the southward, stretched his infan- 
try and cavalry — infantry in the centre, cavalry on the flanks, 
in accordance with the old Spanish system. Fiirstenburg com- 
manded his right wing. The hot-headed Pappenheim led the 
left. Tilly himself commanded the centre. He had no reserves 
except perhaps some artillery supports ; no second line but his 
guns. He seems to have placed his whole reliance on fighting 
on the defensive, ten deep. The range of heights was at their 
backs, and the guns were to fire over their heads. 

Against this position, advancing from the northeast, came an 
equal number of soldiery, marching in two columns : Swedes to 
the northward, Saxons to the south. The}' crossed the little 
stream of the Lober, where Pappenheim made an absurd attack 
with 2,000 cuirassiers (contrary to the orders of Tilly), and was 
easily brushed off by the Swedes ; and, about noon on the 7th 
of September, 163 1, the army of Gustavus Adolphus formed 
line with calm deliberation before the waiting host of the Impe- 
rialists. Here again Tilly seems to have let slip another oppor- 
tunity. Had he attacked in force while the formation was going 
on, which he could readily have done, an easy victory might 
have been his ; but Tilly seems to have had but one idea : to wait 
and be attacked, then pound his adversary to pieces. 

Never before had the practised eyes of the Imperialists, with 
all their years of experience in war, witnessed such a formation 
as that of the Swedish army on this memorable day. The Saxon 
Duke had asked as a favor, that his troops should be inter- 
mingled with those of Sweden, but the king had promptly de- 
clined. " They are not accustomed to our discipline," said he, 
and so the Saxons constituted by themselves the left wing of 
the army, opposite the long line of Fiirstenburg. The entire 
army of Gustavus was drawn up in two lines, with a strong re- 
serve for each wing and for the centre. He himself took com- 



258 i.EiPsic. 

mand of the first line of tlie right wing, where his bravest and 
staunchest cavalry was stationed, with a few battalions of mjiske- 
tecrs dispersed at intei-vals among the squadrons. To the left of 
the king and slightly advanced was the main infantry line. The 
regiments were not deployed in extended ranks as were those 
of Tilly, but, with large intervals, were posted in what we would 
call massed columns, supported by small detachments in simi- 
lar formation in rear, and some in more dispersed order, cover- 
ing the intervals in the front line. All the Swedish artillery was 
posted in front of this centre, which was commanded by Teuffel, 
while on his left were drawn up more cavalry and musketeers 
in similar formation to those on the right, and here that staunch 
old soldier, General Horn, was in command. The second line 
of the Swedish army consisted of Baner's regiments of horse, 
supporting the king ; three battalions of infantry, two of cav- 
alry, and some reserve guns supporting Teuffel ; the entire line 
being formed in separate masses with intervals equal to those in 
the front line. The reserves — cavalry on right and left, infantry 
^ in centre — were commanded by Hall, Hepburn and Baudissen, 
and some Scotch troops were here placed. 

The Saxon wing on the left, by orders from Gustavus Adol- 
phus, adopted a similar formation — Arnheim beir>g in the centre 
and the Elector of Saxony commanding the second line, but it 
was a new formation with them and seemed to prove embar- 
rassing. And now for one important particular. Despite its 
solidity and depth, the Imperialist line extended beyond both 
flanks of the Swedish-Saxon. 

Now, as we stand here in the suburbs of the little hamlet of 
Podelwitz where the army crossed the stream, let us take a good 
look at this field. A far more terrible battle is to be fought in 
this neighborhood — one that will drive the great Napoleon in 
retreat, but it will be no more decisive in its results than that 
which Gustavus Adolphus and Tilly are to fight this hot, dry 
September day. 

Here on gently rising ground, just west of Podelwitz, we can 
overlook the entire battle, and it will be one worth seeing. 
Right in our front, just beneath us, stand the reserves of Sweden's 



POSITION OF THE ALLIES. 259 

army, the troopers dismounted and at their horses' heads, the 
infantry leaning on their pikes or matchlocks. We are behind 
the centre of the right wing, and these masses nearest us are 
Hepburn's Scotchmen. Off to the left on line with him are the 
few English under Hall. There were over 6,000 of these fel- 
lows when they first came across the channel under Hamilton, 
but Dutch black bread and sour beer disagreed with them ; 
and plague, pestilence and famine have thinned them out to a mere 
shadow of their former force. A winding road leads down past 
our left hand behind Hall's men, then sweeps around still further 
to the southward and finally turns abruptly to the west, crosses 
the level plain and disappears through a dip in the opposite 
range. That road divides our Saxons from the Swedes, for 
that is the Saxon army off to the south. If you look carefully 
you will see that they do not stand out as far to the front as the 
Swedish line. That ought not to be, but there is a low hill right 
in their midst ; Arnheim has taken it for his position, and it 
looks very much as though the Elector of Saxony were behind 
it. King Gustavus sees nothing of this. He places little reliance 
on those fellows any way, and is busy getting his guns into 
position. Arnheim, imitating the tactics of the Imperialists, has 
crowded his battery on the little knoll where his .standard is 
waving, and means to fire over the heads of his infantry. Gus- 
tavus is running his guns well out to the front and centre. Battery 
after battery is quietly unlimbering there in front of Teuffdl. The 
rest of the army is in position and resting on its arms. 

Now look across the plain. There stretches that long, low 
range of slopes, the entire crest black with batteries, the guns 
run well to the edge, the cannoneers lounging beside their 
pieces. Just why they so calmly spare us is more than many 
an old soldier can understand. They ought to be hanging away 
at this instant. Now too the wind is rising and puffs of dust 
whirl up from the sun-baked roads and fields, that soon gather 
into dense clouds and come drifting down upon us. A moment 
ago we could see the steeples of the little churches at Linden- 
thai and Breitenfeld peering above the range ; could plainly see 
the dense tree-tops of the wood of Gross Widderitzch beyond 



260 LEIPSIC. 

the plateau ; could count the standards in the long, solid ranks 
of foot and horse facing us across the fields. Now the dust- 
clouds shut them out of sight more than half the time. 

It is just noon. Suddenly a simultaneous jet of flame and 
roar of thunder breaks from the guns in our front. Gustavus 
has opened fire on the heights. In an instant ever}'^ gun in 
front of Teuffel is at work. In another instant the opposite 
crest leaps into flame, and the answer comes booming back at us. 
It is the opening of the first battle of Leipsic. 

For two mortal hours, through stifling clouds of smoke and 
dust, this cannonade goes on, and with the wind at his back 
Tilly has plainly the best of it. Gustavus can stand it no longer. 
See ! He with his cuirassiers, the intermingling infantr)% the 
whole right of the front line, is moving off northward, marching 
rapidly too, and Teuffel has faced some of his line to the right 
to follow, while General Bauer's horsemen mount and slowly 
ride off to the right front. What does it mean ? Simply that 
Gustavus wants to sweep around where the dust will not blow 
in his face, and, if possible, attack that range from the north ; 
take it in flank where its artillery can do him little damage, 
planted as it is. But Pappenheim's wing, all cavalry, stretches out 
beyond the extreme right. It is a hazardous move. The instant 
that fiery soldier catches sight of it he will swoop down upon 
the flank, orders or no orders. Sure enough, the mingled dust 
and smoke-cloud has raised for a moment, and with tremendous 
cheering 3,000 mail-clad horsemen come spurring out across the 
plain. A great regiment of infantr)^ 2,000 strong, obliques to 
the left in support. There is a broad gap between the cuirassiers 
of Gustavus and Teuffel's infantr\-, and straight for that gap and 
for those between the troops of Swedish horse, the leaders of 
Pappenheim's cavalry are spurring. They know well the valor 
and prowess of the Swedish swordsman, and have no desire to 
meet him hand-to-hand until his array is first broken. But look! 
The cuirassiers quickly wheel to the left to meet the charge. 
The little squares of matchlock men blaze with the unexpected 
discharge of their hea\y muskets. Dozens of saddles are emp- 
tied ; a thousand dragoons, perhaps, ride at thundering gallop 



PAPPENHEIM'S MISFORTUNE. 261 

through the broad gap and are preparing to wheel to right 
and left, and, madly exulting over their easy victory, about to 
charge the rear of the Swedish troops, when — mark the skill 
of Sweden's tactician ! — with irresistible impulse and flashing 
swords the battalions of Baner, the Swedish second line of 
cavalry, whirl in upon them. Two thousand Imperial horse, two 
thousand Imperial infantry, the regiment of Holstein, are caught 
in a trap. Pappenheim, raging at his misfortune, calls off his 
horsemen and forms again, charging a second, a third — indeed, 
he swears he charged seven times on that inflexible right and 
could make no impression. Gustavus simply holds back his 
cuirassiers until Baner and Baudissen have annihilated the Duke 
of Holstein and his men. A solid front is maintained against 
Pappenheim ; he is wearing himself out against it ; has lost 3,000 
men already, and it is barely four o'clock. He sends staff-ofiicers 
innumerable, one after another, begging Tilly for aid, but Tilly 
is doubly exasperated at the scrape into which his rash and in- 
subordinate subordinate has plunged him. He sees only one 
way to retrieve his fortune, and will need every man. At least 
he can have some revenge on those Saxons and on the Swedish 
left. They will not attack him ; so, while Pappenheim holds Gus- 
tavus off to the north, he will demolish the left. All his guns 
concentrate for a few minutes upon the disturbed and irresolute 
Saxons, then thunder at the Swedish left, where Horn com- 
mands, then cease firing as Fiirstenburg's whole wing leaps to 
the front, bearing down on the Saxons of Arnheim, and Tilly 
advances his right centre upon Horn. It is a magnificent ad- 
vance. Arnheim's six guns thunder harmlessly at the squadrons 
as they come cantering out from under the shadows of the 
heights, then break into the gallop ; but long before they get 
within musket-range of the Saxon troops those raw levies 
crumble away from the left flank, and look! before Arnheim can 
check it, whole regiments are melting away and come drifting 
back. Another moment and the Imperialist horse are among 
them, and then — all is rout and confusion. 

Foremost among the fugitives is the elector himself He 
never draws rein until he gets to Eilenburg, miles behind us. 



262 LEiPSic. 

Only one division stands : the Saxons of Arnheim, next to 
Horn's line, hold their ground. Tilly, sweeping forward in vehe- 
ment attack of the left centre, is met by a furious cannonade from 
all the guns of Teuffel's front. The whole line is now wrapped in 
smoke and dust, .so as to be indistinguishable. Fiirstenburg, with 
his entire cavalry force, has swept around the Swedish left in 
pursuit of the craven Saxons; the infantry of Tilly have seized 
the guns left by Arnheim on the mound, and now are turn- 
ing them towards his sole remaining division, so as to sweep 
the Swedish line. Things look black at this end. Quickly, 
however, the three battalions of Hall face to the left and charge 
the captors of the guns. They in turn are enveloped and as- 
sailed by Fijrstenburg's returning troopers. Hall himself is 
killed and Collenbach's regiment well-nigh swept out of exist- 
ence. But by this time all these gallant Scots of the grand re- 
serve in the centre, Hepburn, with Lord Reay, and Ramsay, 
have marched down across that now bloody road, and formed 
line facing south, to repel the new attack; and Colonels Lums- 
den and Vitzheim have formed their regiments on their left. All 
Fijrstenburg's horsemen are now recalled from pursuit, and the 
fiercest, hottest part of the battle is raging right here to our left. 
Tilly watches it hopefully ; Gustavus is too far off to see. Vic- 
tory is with the latter ; for, while we have been watching this des- 
perate struggle on our left, he and his cuirassiers have sent Pap- 
penheim's troopers whirling in rout and confusion through Breit- 
enfeld and Lindenthal ; and now, hardly waiting to reform his 
squadrons, he comes sweeping down close under the range from 
the north, taking the Imperialist infantry in flank, while many 
of his adventurous horsemen, spurring up the slopes, are sabering 
the men at the silent guns. The news that his left was utterly 
routed reached Tilly but a moment before he heard that his centre, 
behind him, was broken and falling back across the crest. But 
here, around him and to his front, all is victory, or, at least, hope. 
He can yet sweep those stubborn Swedes back through Podel- 
witz. All his remaining infantry are hurried to the front, as 
now, for the first time, he realizes the error he made in leaving 
all the guns in the heights ; now they are useless ; worse than 
that, in jeopardy. 



TILLY'S ARMY BADLY BEATEN. 263 

The bravest veterans of the Imperial host are here with him, 
and under Fiirstenburg. Such cavalry as they have met are no 
match for them. Now they are pitted against those exasper- 
atingly cool battalions of Swedish foot. Again and again they 
charge them, but, instead of reducing front and deepening their 
files, the " Norsemen " seem encouraged by their own steadi- 
ness ; they lengthen their lines, form only three deep, and then, 
front rank kneeling, second rank bending low, and third rank 
standing erect, they pour volley after volley into the Imperialist 
squadrons. Then Saxon Arnheim rallies his dragoons, and they 
are hovering about the flanks of the worn-out cavalry ; and now, 
can it be ? Yes ; surely, steadily the Swedish footmen are ad- 
vancing, pushing before them the broken remnants of Tilly's 
lines. In vain he storms and rages, riding hither and thither : 
he cannot check the backward move. Already the cuirassiers of 
Adolphus are hammering at his exposed left ; Arnheim has swung 
around against his right. Sweden, represented by its stalwart 
infantry under Teuffel, is steadily pushing him back. Suddenly 
he hears the thunder of his own guns on the heights behind him, 
and their missiles come tearing huge gaps through his gasping 
ranks. Mortal man can stand n'o more ; the King of Sweden 
has turned upon him his own guns ; the army of Tilly is routed, 
and pursuit sweeps it from the field. 

Just at sunset the last of its once brilliant array backs through 
the depression in the ridge opposite the Swedish centre. The 
ridge itself is taken ; the cavalry is fleeing for Halle beyond 
Saxon territory. Only four organized regiments of veterans re- 
main, and these, throwing themselves into the forest back of the 
heights, with desperate gallantry maintain themselves there 
against the king himself until darkness puts an end to the fight, 
and the battered remnant is allowed to retire. 

Tilly, Fiirstenburg and Pappenheim are wounded; 7,000 dead 
and wounded Imperialists are left upon the field ; many are 
prisoners ; every gun is taken, and one hundred standards, the 
proud colors of the Imperialists, are in the hands of Adolphus, 
and so complete is the rout and destruction of this dreaded army 
of Tilly that, while Pappenheim can only rally 1,400 of his 



264 



LEirsic. 



wing, Tilly himself, at Halle, can muster not a thousand. The 
Saxons deservedly suffered for running as they did, and lost 
2,000 men ; but the losses of Sweden proper did not exceed 700. 
The victory, like the disparity in losses, is simply overwhelming. 
But the moral effect of this great battle is something far more 
serious than even the annihilation of Tilly's army. The prestige 
of that vehement leader is gone forever, and he himself meets 
his death soon after at the combat on the Lech. The hitherto 
invincible Imperialists are utterly routed in fair fight, in open 
field and on chosen ground, by the " Snow King," as they had 
contemptuously called him. All Protestant Germany rallied to 
the standard of this new Christian hero, whose first act, on dis- 
mounting on the hard-won field of Breitenfeld, was to kneel 
amid the dead and dying, and render thanks to God for aid and 
guidance. To him was now committed the cause of Protestantism, 
and with it that of the allies, who for political reasons had joined 
against Austria and Spain. France was Catholic in religion, 
and was now disposed to look with jealous distrust upon the un- 
limited power of a Protestant king. This led to further compli- 
cations m the Thirty \ ears War 





Vf^ 



LUTZEN. 




I6j2. 

ITH the sword in one hand and mercy in the 
other, Gustavus Adolphus marched to and 
fro in Germany after his great victory at 
Leipsic. He appeared at once as conqueroi, 
judge and lawgiver. Cities and fortresses, 
opened their gates at his approach, and the 
standards of Sweden were planted along the 
banks of the great rivers. There is no time 
to follow his victorious movements. The 
leaders of the League were well-nigh desperate when their last 
general, Tilly, met his death-wound in contesting with the con- 
queror the passage of the river Lech. They had only one man 
whose intellect and power seemed a possible match for the in- 
vincible King of Sweden, and that one man was the very Wal- 
lenstein whom they had deposed and humiliated but a short 
time before. 

In his retirement he was known to have made overtures to 
Gustavus Adolphus, asking a command under his banners and 
pledging him vehement support. Hatred of the powers that 
had robbed him of his high command had turned Wallenstein 
into a traitor. He was a man who could bear to be second to 
nobody; cold, crafty, intensely selfish, utterly unprincipled, en- 
riched to a fabulous extent by plunder, he was bound, even 
among his own people, either to rule or to ruin. Gustavus 
wisely hesitated about placing so unreliable a person in a posi- 
tion of vast trust and power — put him off with the plea that his 
army was too weak in numbers to permit the assignment to him 
of an independent command ; but Wallenstein saw through the 

(265) 



266 LUTZEN. 

pretext and hated the king accordingly, and next we find him at 
the head of a powerful Imperialist army. Doubting him, fearing 
him, the Emperor of Austria was reduced to the extremity of 
restoring him to supreme command, as the only means of 
securing his allegiance. So long as he was at the head of 
affairs, with power at his Oack, it made little difference to Wal- 
lenstein on which side ht fought. All Europe knew his great 
ability, and all Europe held its breath now to watch the battle 
of the giants, to be fought between the two most renowned sol- 
diers of the age — Gustavus Adolphus and Wallenstein, the Duke 
of Friedland. 

After much preliminary marching and manoeuvring, the 
armies met within a few miles of the scene of the great victory 
over Tilly, and northwestern Saxony again became the centre of 
movement. Wallenstein, with some 17,000 men, was encamped 
near the little town of Liitzen, west of Leipsic, and, on the 6th 
of November, 1632, Pappenheim, eager as ever for battle, was 
hurrying to join hiui with lo.ooo more. 

With 12,000 foot and 6,500 horse, Gustavus Adolphus, bid- 
ding adieu to his queen at Erfurt, had taken the field to meet 
him. Sending forward his gallant ally, Duke Bernhard of Wei- 
mar, to Naumburg, on the Saal, only a day's march from 
Liitzen, he himself rapidly followed, being received by the peo- 
ple with the acclamation and reverence they would have given 
to a superior being. On Sunday, November 4th, an intercepted 
letter told him that Wallenstein was still encamped near Liitzen, 
a few miles farther to the northeast, and in apparent ignorance 
of his coming, and that Pappenheim was off near Halle, to the 
northward. Liitzen lay near Weissenfels, and a little river, the 
Rippach, lay between the camps of the Imperialists and the 
southwest, the direction from which Gustavus must come. 
Hoping to attack and crush Wallenstein before Pappenheim 
could join him, the Swedish king pushed rapidly forward the 
very next day ; but, though his celerity enabled him to seize the 
little bridge across the Rippach after a brush with a small cav- 
alry outpost, Gustavus found the bridge so slight and so narrow 
as to require great care and deliberation in crossing. It took 



"BE HERE AT DAYBREAK." 267 

till nightfall to land his army on the eastern bank ; it was then 
too late to attack, and VVallenstein made good use of the delay. 
Couriers were sent to Pappenheim to come forward with all 
speed. " Be here at daybreak with every man and gun," were 
the brief orders, and the letter, stained with the general's life- 
blood, was found on his body the following night, showing how 
well he had obeyed his chief Anticipating early attack, Wal- 
lenstein established his men in their positions, strengthened 
them with earthworks, hastily thrown up, but affording capital 
protection for his musketeers ; and during all the night and the 
early, misty morning, he rode tirelessly from point to point, 
leaving no stone unturned to make his defence secure. His 
original position had been somewhat " scattered," his troops 
being quartered among the hamlets north of and around Liitzen; 
but a capital field of battle presented itself to his practised eye 
where the great high road, connecting Leipsic with Weissenfels, 
crossed the level plain from east to west, passing through 
Liitzen on the west end of the plain. A winding canal, con- 
necting the Saal and the Elster, cut the high road at right- 
angles, about two miles east of the village, and a very gentle rise 
in the ground, north of and parallel to the road, formed an ad 
mirable line for his defence. With his right behind Liitzen, his 
left resting near and protected by the canal, facing nearly south, 
he stood ready to meet his great antagonist. Just north of the 
highway, where the rise in the ground was most marked, he 
planted his battery of position. Farther to the right, nearer 
Liitzen, stood a few windmills, and beyond them, close on the 
edge of the high road, stood the house of the miller. All these 
were speedily and skilfully turned into means of defence, for, 
until Pappenheim could reach him, Wallenstein would be out- 
numbered. He had seven heavy guns in the battery of position, 
and fourteen light field-pieces were placed in front of the wind- 
mills. During the night, too, his musketeers deepened the 
ditch north of the highway, and lined it with a strong body of 
marksmen. Beyond all question, Wallenstein had made the 
most of his ground. As to the tactical disposition of his troops, 
there is so much dispute among historians that it is hard to say 



268 LtJTZEN. 

just how they were drawn up. Wallenstein, with most of the 
infantry in very heavy masses, occupied the centre ; the right, 
supporting the windmill batteries, was intrusted to Count Colo- 
redo ; the left, early in the action, at least, to Hoik. By some 
authors it is claimed that his infantry was divided into five 
brigades, four being with him in the centre, one on the right 
with Coloredo. Each brig_ade formed as an independent square, 
with projecting masses of pikemen at the four angles. Others 
would indicate that the footmen of the Imperialist army had 
been divided into twelve parallelograms, somewhat longer than 
diey were deep, and that eight of these were placed in the front 
line, the others being held in the second in reserve. The cav- 
alry, in accordance with time-honored custom, occupied the 
flanks, and the entire front was nearly two miles in length, with 
the highway about three hundred yards out to the front. All 
baggage-wagons were sent off to the rear of Liitzen; all ammu- 
nition wagons were parked in rear of the centre, and, to make 
the array as numerically formidable as possible in appearance, 
Wallenstein caused all sutlers and camp-followers to be mounted 
and massed like a large body of reserve cavalry in rear of his 
left wing. 

Immediately on crossing the Rippach, King Gustavus, riding 
forward, had taken in the situation at a glance. Instead of 
finding Wallenstein unprepared and in small force he saw that 
he had most skillfully seized upon the advantages of the ground, 
that his force was apparently as great as his own, and that with 
Pappenheim only a short march away at Halle, he would be 
sure of making a junction in the morning. But the stout heart 
of King Gustavus did not fail him. There was no way now of 
avoiding the issue. The one thing to do was attack vigorously 
at the earliest break of day, and trust to the guidance of God 
and the courage of his men to carry him through and sweep 
the Imperialists from the ground before Pappenheim could come 
up. So, whatever may have been his disappointment, the king 
maintained his cheery, buoyant, hopeful demeanor, and quickly 
deployed his men in his favorite order of battle — that which 
had been so successful at Leipsic. It was almost dusk when 
the first line was formed. 



DISPOSITION OF GUSTAVUS' FORCES. 269 

With his right resting on the canal, his left a little south of 
the town of Liitzen, Gustavus placed his cavalry and infantry 
intermingled in regiments and battalions some four hundred 
yards south of the highway, supported by the second line, two 
hundred and fifty yards farther to the rear. In the centre, eight 
regiments of infantry were skillfully drawn up in supporting 
columns in the two lines, those in front in line of battle six deep. 
The cavalry of both flanks, front line, three deep — those of the 
rear lines and reserves in massed columns. Companies of mus- 
keteers of from 50 to 100 strong were placed between the 
squadrons on the wings. To Duke Bernhard of Weimar was 
intrusted the command of the left wing, nearly all the German 
cavalry being there stationed. Count Nicholas Brahe com- 
manded the solid infantry in the centre, the king himself led the 
Swedes of the right wing, and, while the artillery was distrib- 
uted all along the front, the reserve in rear of the centre 
near the little hamlet of Chursitz consisted, as at Leipsic, of 
the Scots, and was commanded by Henderson. Of the gallant 
Scotchmen who had rendered him such excellent service at 
Leipsic few were left. Hepburn, Reay and Ramsay were no 
longer there, but in his second line, commanding the infantry, 
was a Swedish soldier who had won the confidence and respect 
of his master on many an intervening field, — General Knip- 
hausen. 

Late in the evening the dispositions were completed. Never, 
perhaps, did rival commanders pass the night before desperate 
battle with such complete realization of the consequences that 
must attend the coming struggle. Each fully appreciated the 
skill and courage of his adversary. Each felt that defeat meant 
ruin either to the cause he championed, as was the case with the 
king, or to himself, as was the case with cold-blooded and cal- 
culating Wallenstein. The former passed the night in his car- 
riage, occasionally conversing with some of his generals as to 
the duties of the coming day, occasionally in silent prayer. 
The latter, gloomy, stern, abstracted and repellant as ever, took 
counsel with no one, but restlessly moved to and fro, satisfying 
himself that all was well. In point of numbers engaged 



270 MTtzen. 

Liitzen was not the prominent battle of the war. In point of 
the renown of its contestants it was the battle of the century. 

At the first break of day on the chill, wintry morning of No- 
vember 6th, 1632, both armies were astir; but, to the disappoint- 
ment of the King of Sweden, a cold, thick, penetrating fog had 
lowered over the plain. Riding out towards the high road 
where his sentinels were posted, within stone's throw of the Im- 
perialist musketeers, he found that objects ten yards away were 
mere blurs, and that it was impossible to distinguish the posi- 
tion of the guns on the northern slope. This would never do. 
It was necessary that he should be able to see the entire field, 
and all bej'ond a dozen yards was shrouded in mystery. There 
could be no telling what might be going on in the enemy's lines, 
and, as his part would be the attack, clear sight, at least, was in- 
dispensable. The sun rose but the fog did not ; and in deep 
anxiety Gustavus rode back to his lines. He had planned to 
attack at dawn, and to finish the fight before Pappenheim could 
possibly come to the rescue. Now attack was impossible un- 
less he trusted to blind luck, and that he would not do. There 
was no help for it but to wait the lifting of the fog, which would 
be sure to follow the sun's climbing toward the zenith. Mean- 
time, dressed in a plain buff coat, without armor, the king ap- 
peared before his men. First he had caused his chaplain, Fa- 
bricius, to read prayers with him alone ; then, out in front of his 
line, the monarch knelt and implored the blessing of the Al- 
mighty on the issues of the day ; and his soldiers, catching sight 
of him, struck up the grand old Lutheran hymn, that to this 
day is the stirring chant of the German soldier before going into 
action : " Ein' feste Burg ist unser Gott " — " Our God is a strong 
tower." Starting among the footmen of Brahe in the centre, it 
was taken up right and left, and soon the sonorous voices of 
thousands of bearded men blended in the ringing, majestic 
melody, and the morning air resounded with the swelling 
chorus. The king himself, when the notes had died away, led 
them in another hymn; then, mounting, he rode among and ad- 
dressed them. To his Swedes he said : " My brave and beloved 
subjects, yonder is the enemy you have sought so long, not 



GUSTAVUS ADDRESSES HIS ARMY. 271 

now sheltered by strong ramparts, nor posted on inaccessible 
heights, but ranged in fair and open field. Advance then, by- 
God's help, not so much to fight as to conquer. Spare not your 
blood, your lives, for your king, your country, your God ; and 
the present and eternal blessing of the Almighty, and an illus- 
trious name throughout the Christian world, await you. But if, 
which God forbid, you prove cowards, I swear that not a bone 
of you shall return to Sweden." 

Then he rode over to the left, among the Germans of Duke 
Bernhard : " My brave allies and fellow-soldiers," he said to 
them, " I adjure you by your fame, your honor and your con- 
science ; by the interests temporal and eternal now at stake ; 
by your former exploits, by the remembrance of Tilly and the 
Breitenfeld, bear yourselves bravely to-day. Let the field before 
you become illustrious by a similar slaughter. Forward ! I will 
be this day not only your general, but your comrade. I will 
not only command you, I will lead you on. Add your efforts 
to mine. Extort from the enemy, by God's help, that victory 
of which the chief fruits will be to you and your children. But, 
if you shrink from the contest, remember that religion, liberty, 
all, will be lost, and that by your remissness." 

Both Swedes and Germans responded to his addresses with 
cheers and every evidence of enthusiasm and devotion ; but it 
was evident that the king was deeply sensible of the utter sol- 
emnity of the ordeal before him, and again — this time aloud — 
he invoked, before his troops, the blessing of heaven on their 
efforts. 

And still that damp, depressing fog clung to the ground. It 
was ten o'clock. Gustavus, riding restlessly to and fro, had not 
eaten a mouthful. He was all impatience for the fog to raise. 

At last, it must have been towards noon, a light breeze began 
to sweep over the scene. The sun, swinging around to the 
south, began to make itself felt on the backs of the Swedish- 
army, and, between wind and sun, the fog slowly lifted, rolled 
away northward, and first the trees along the highway became 
visible ; then the dry, deserted roadway ; then the heads of the 
skirmishers in the ditch beyond ; then the turf of the level 
i8 



2r72 LUTZKN. 

ground still farther north ; then the slopes, the black muzzles 
and mud-covered carriages of the guns, the alert forms of the 
cannoneers ; then the mounted squadrons, the heavy masses of 
bristling infantry, the ghostly-looking windmills off to the north- 
west, with the field-batteries unlimbered in front of them ; then 
the walls and roofs of Liitzen to the west, all in a broad blaze 
of flame, for Wallenstein had set the town afire to prevent a 
Swedish lodgment there ; then the open landscape and country 
roads far to the north, beyond the Imperialist lines; then clouds 
of dust off towards Halle — Pappenheim was coming. Thcr.' 
was not an instant to lose. 

Almost at the same second the artiller)' of the opposing lines 
burst into thundering and deadly salute. The Swedish and 
German trumpets sounded the charge, and in one grand, simul- 
taneous attack, primitive as that of the days before Epaminondas, 
the entire line of Sweden, " horse, foot and dragoon," swept 
forward. The high road was gained and crossed in an instant; 
the skirmishers in the ditch beyond scattered for their lives to 
the rear. " God with us," was the war-cry of the northern army, 
as they scrambled through the wet and muddy trench, and re- 
formed lines on the northern side. Then, with mad impulse, the 
German horsemen on the left, led by Duke Bernhard, dashed 
full at the guns under the windmills, and the Swedish cuirassiers 
on the right, heavy armed and led by the king himself, were 
hurled at the lightly-mounted Poles and Croats of the Imperial- 
ist left. These latter were overturned and sent scurrying from 
the field in the twinkling of an eye. It looked for ten minutes 
as though Sweden would march right over the Imperialist lines. 
The battery of position in the centre was seized so suddenly, 
that Wallenstein had not time to advance his infantry to sup- 
port the gunners ; the next moment the stalwart footmen of 
Brahe were through the battery and grappling hand to hand 
with the Imperialist squares. In five minutes' sharp fighting, 
such was the rush and impetus of the Swedish charge, three foot- 
brigades of Wallenstein's centre were overwhelmed and borne 
back upon the second line. In absolute amaze the Duke of 
Friedland saw his left wing swept away, his centre yielding, his 



WALLENSTEIN RALLIES HIS SURPRISED FORCES. 273 

right sorely pressed. Verily, these hymn-singing; Protestants 
knew how to fight. 

But the duke was brave, fearless, energetic. With the rapidity 
of thought he threw himself in rear of the centre ; ordered for- 
ward the brigades of the second line ; personally rallied and re- 
stored the ranks of those that were drifting off towards the north; 
turned them once more against the enemy and launched them in. 
The Swedes were already breathless with the exertion of their 
charge of half a mile over hedge, ditch and rough ground. 
They were now involved in a desperate hand-to-hand melee, and 
suddenly three regiments of Imperialist cavalry came thun- 
dering down upon them to the aid of Wallenstein's rallied in- 
fantry. Now Brahe in turn is overweighted, hemmed in, and 
presently borne slowly back. The strong pikemen of both armies 
are making desperate play with their deadly weapons ; there is 
no time for loading, and muskets are used like battering-rams 
against the enemies' faces. It is a struggle in which weight is 
bound to tell, and now the heavy masses of the Imperialists are 
pitted against the six-deep formation of the Swedes. The latter 
cannot help it ; they must fall back. So too on the extreme left. 
The German cavalry have been unable to take the guns ; the in- 
fantry supports have been most vigilant ; all around the wind- 
mills the ground is cut up into little garden patches with mud 
walls ; every patch is full of marksmen, and the cavalry attack 
has been a failure. 

Off on the extreme right Gustavus has carried all before him, 
but now he learns with deep dismay that his centre is being 
beaten back and that his left is gone. 

Leaving matters on that flank to the care of General Horn, 
the king at once galloped to the west just as his infantry were 
being driven back through the heavy battery they had so lately 
captured. He had ordered Colonel Steinbock with his regiment 
of cuirassiers to follow him, but the king's horse outran them 
all, and he was practically the only mounted officer who, dash- 
ing in among the retreating footmen, seemed to be striving to 
check the move. Keen eyes among the Imperialists marked the 
commanding form, and noted how the Swedish soldiers halted 



274 LUTZEN. 

and faced them again as this tall horseman rode atiiong the ranks, 
eagerly shouting and waving his sword. " Pick off that man " 
was the order, and in an instant the king became the target of 
an hundred musketeers ; a bullet tore through his arm, shatter- 
ing the bone and causing the mangled limb to hang by the 
quivering muscles and flesh. A cry of consternation went up 
among the Swedes — " The king is hit!" and, though faint with 
agony, he laughs and cheers them' on, but the blood is gushing 
in streams from his wound ; he grows fainter and reels in his 
saddle. By this time Duke Albert of Lauenburg has reached 
iiim and others of his staff. " Lead me to the rear," he whispers 
to the duke ; " but take me around to the right — not through the 
lines or they will think 'tis worse than it is." The infantry are 
still retiring as the duke leads his royal master, now weak and 
failing, hurriedly along the front. Then comes another merci- 
less volley ; the king reels again over his saddle-bow ; a shot has 
pierced him through and through. " Save yourself," he orders 
his friend; " I am gone," and at that instant a squad of Imperialist 
cavalry dash upon them and the king is left — alone. The duke 
spurs to the rear for aid ; the king, surrounded by assailants, 
receives several other wounds and pitches lifeless from his saddle. 
Another moment and the royal charger, riderless and covered 
with blood, tears along the Swedish lines and the dismal story 
is known. Gustavus Adolphus is killed. 

And now, instead of dispiriting them, the sight of the gory 
saddle seemed to inspire the entire army with renewed fervor 
and energy. Bernhard of Weimar at once assumed command. 
The entire line again advanced, and this time the windmill bat- 
teries were seized, held, and turned eastward so as to enfilade 
the Imperialist line. The Germans had really won the key- 
point of the battle. The Swedish infantry, both lines now, with 
the Duke of Weimar and Kniphausen, fought their way over the 
field and a second time captured the heavy battery. Then the 
shots of the artillery reached the Imperialist ammunition wagons 
in rear of the centre, and these began to ignite and explode with 
great uproar and damage. All was over with Wallenstein ; his 
whole line was in full retreat, v/hen, suddenly ,^.th.e dust-clouds 



PAPPENHEIM ARRIVES. 275 

that had been marked by Gustavus Adolphus an hour before far 
off to the north came sweeping upon the field. Pappenheim, 
with all his cuirassiers and dragoons, dashed upon the wearied 
Swedes; all that was gained was in jeopardy. Five minutes ago 
the battle was won by Sweden ; now there was no telling who 
would be the victor. 

Again Wallenstein rallied his infantry and brought them back 
into line. Again the Imperialist cavalry reformed and endeavored 
to aid their comrades of Pappenheim's division. As for that 
fiery soldier himself, he had received the order to join Wallen- 
stein only when his troops were scattered, plundering Halle. 
Never waiting for his infantry, he mounted his eight regiments 
of horse and started back towards Liitzen early in the morning ; 
met the Croats and Poles fleeing from the field before General 
Horn; spent some little time rallying them; then with his own 
fresh regiments and with these restored cavalrymen he bore 
down upon the field. Once more the Swedish infantry was 
driven back across the now blood-stained level. Once more the 
heavy guns became the property of their original owners. The 
whole "yellow regiment" of the Swedish line, it is said, was 
shot or sabred there, and, after winning the utmost distinction 
during the day, died almost to a man around those fatal guns. 
Another regiment, the blue, was surrounded and literally hacked 
to pieces by the Italian cavalry under Count Piccolomini. But 
Sweden was indomitable — her soldiers would die there as their 
king had died, but they would not give up the fight. 

Falling back behind their own guns, they permitted the 
artillerists to open on the fresh arrivals of Pappenheim. Then 
Pappenheim charged the guns, but was beaten back. Leading 
in a second time, this daring soldier became in his turn the target 
of the Swedish musketeers. Two bullets passed through his 
chest; he fell from his horse and was borne dying from the field. 
He had been searching everywhere for the King of Sweden, 
hoping to cross swords with the renowned monarch. Now, as 
he was borne to the rear, they told him that the king was killed. 
" Tell the Duke of Friedland," he said, " that I lie without a 
hope of life, but that I die happy since I know that the implacable 
enemy of my religion has fallen on the same day." 



276 LUTZEN, 

With the fall of Pappenheim the last hope of the Imperialists 
departed. Brave as he unquestionably was, Wallenstein lacked 
the magnetism that enables the leader to control the soldier in 
moments of panic or peril. The cavalry on the left again gave 
way before the Swedish cuirassiers ; the infantry of the centre 
reformed in support of the central guns, and, in the right wing, 
Coloredo, Gotz, Terzky and Piccolomini rallied and aligned their 
regiments ; but now the Swedish lines were formed for a last 
effort. To replace the yellow and blue regiments, which were 
already practically annihilated, the infantry of the second line 
was called to the front, and, for the third time, the. footmen of 
Sweden advanced across the highway. The struggle over the 
guns was long, bloody and desperate ; but, as the sun went down, 
Wallenstein saw, with dumb dismay, that his men were incapa- 
ble of further effort. The seven heavy guns of the centre were 
for the third and last time taken and held by the soldiers of 
Sweden. * Pappenheim's infantry, six fresh regiments, came up 
about nightfall, but the battle was over. 

Beyond all doubt the victory was with the army of Sweden. 
They had lost, it is true, their good, and generous and gallant 
king; the first general of the seventeenth century had perished 
on the field ; the only conqueror who could be merciful and just, 
that the world had yet known, lay stripped and slain among the 
bodies of his faithful soldiers, but the victory was his — and theirs. 
Wallenstein decamped that very night and fled to Leipsic, and 
thither, the next day, his army straggled. Abandoning every 
gun, abandoning their colors, they made their way after him, a 
whipped and dejected multitude. 

Yet, no sooner had Wallenstein become assured of the death 
of Gustavus Adolphus, than he claimed the victoiy, sent couriers 
and officers to the emperor announcing triumphant success ; 
caused Tc Dcuins to be sung in the cathedrals, and assumed all 
the triumphant bearing of a conqueror ; but his sudden evacua- 
tion of Leipsic and Sa.xony, on hearing that the Duke of Wei- 
mar meant to assail him again, pricked the bubble of his reputa- 
tion, and the star of his wavering fortune set forever. Duke 
Bernhard marched into Leipsic a victor. Wallenstein, again 



GUSTAVUS AND WALLENSTEiy CONTRASTED. 277 

suspected of treason to the crown, died at the hand of assassins 
within fifteen months of his last battle. He had no friends ; he 
left none to mourn him. He was a man who had lived for self 
alone, and, though brave and resolute to the last, it was the 
bravery of desperation. 

On the other hand, Gustavus Adolphus, the soldier of his 
century, the statesman, scholar and Christian, died universally 
lamented: even his enemies were powerfully moved. His body 
was brought with reverent care to Weissenfels, thence to Wit- 
tenberg, and finally, with great pomp and ceremony, was con- 
veyed to Sweden, where, on the i8th of June, 1634, long after 
the death of Wallenstein, the honored remains were consigned 
to the grave. He had died in the flower of his age, in the midst 
of an eventful and most honored life, in the heart of what would 
have been his greatest victory. 

For a time after Liitzen, it looked as though the death of 
Gustavus would be a blow from which the Protestant cause 
could not rally ; but the genius of the Swedish chancellor, Oxen- 
stiern, and the brilliancy of his generals, kept the enemy at 
bay. We have no exact figures of the losses at Liitzen ; some 
9,000 men were known to have been killed, all told, and it is 
probable that the casualties were very equally divided. The list 
of wounded or contused in the Swedish army included pretty 
much every survivor, so desperate had been the fighting. 

But Austria was emboldened to new efforts, now that the 
dreaded king was out of the way ; and in less than two years 
Bernhard of Weimar, with a strong army of Germans, Saxons 
and Swedes, was terribly defeated by the Imperialists at Nord- 
lingen, September 6th, 1634. Then Saxony lost heart and made 
peace at Prague with Austria, by the terms of which the Luther- 
ans abandoned the struggle with her and became, with Saxony, 
allies of Austria. This left the German Calvinists to their fate, 
and so complicated the questions of the war that, in order to re- 
tain for his country the possessions won by Gustavus Adolphus, 
Oxenstiern diplomatically turned over the direction of the war 
to Cardinal Richelieu, of France. Now it was no longer Pro- 
testant against Catholic, but France, Sweden and North Ger- 



278 LUTZEN. 

many against Austria, Spain and Italy; with Saxonj'-, Bohemia 
and the Palatinate alternately trampled under foot by both par- 
ties. Nor was there much concert of action. The troops of 
Sweden, under General Baner, were retained in North Germany, 
making occasional dashes to the south, to the great alarm of 
Austria. Duke Bernhard reorganized his army, and was fight- 
ing independently along the Rhine in hopes of winning Alsace 
for himself; and two great soldiers, Turenne and Conde, were 
leading the armies of France against the allies on the German 
frontier and in Spain. 

The Imperialist party had the best of the fight for some time 
after Nordlingen, for the features of the war were now entirely 
changed and, happily, entering on their last phase ; but the pro- 
ject of invading France was defeated by the energy of the 
Swedes under Baner, who kept the Austrians incessantly em- 
ployed in Bohemia and Silesia, and won a great battle from 
them at Wittstock (October 4th, 1636). Then came a series of 
fights in which Sweden was uniformly successful, and two more 
marked victories at Breitenfeld — which thus became distinguished 
a second time — and Yankowitz added to the lustre of her arms. 

On the Rhine, however, Duke Bernhard fared badly, and at 
last the great French generals, Conde and Turenne, came to his 
rescue, and drove the leaguers back into Bavaria — winning at 
Nordlingen, August 3d, 1645, the battle which virtually termi- 
nated the struggle, and the peace of Westphalia ended the 
Thirty Years' War. 



VIENNA. 




*IENNA, the beautiful capital of the Empire of 
Austria, lies on a level plain surrounded by a 
circle of low hills and traversed by the river 
Danube. Its name is taken from a sluggish 
stream, the Wien, which flows under the walls 
into an arm of the great river that separates the 
city from the suburb of Leopoldstadt on the 
northeast. From its geographical position and 
its political importance, the city has been sub- 
jected to several sieges, and has been the scene of many a great 
conference and treaty of peace between the various European 
powers ; but for years of its early existence it lay in the track 
of every horde of barbaric invaders, and after the establishment 
of Mussulman power in Eastern Europe it was incessantly 
threatened by the Turks. These people besieged it in strong 
force in 1529, but it was gallantly defended and they were 
driven back with great loss. Then, during the Thirty Years' 
War, the troops of Sweden several times came within alarming 
proximity to its walls, but without attack. Then came a brief 
respite, and finally in 1683, nearly forty years after the close of 
the long and disheartening war in which the empire had been 
engaged, there came a siege that well-nigh wiped it out of ex- 
istence. 

Leopold I. was Emperor of Austria. He had been crowned 
King of Hungary in 1654, but had to fight for his possessions 
with the Turks, in which contest his general, the same Monte- 
cuculi who had won such distinction in the Thirty Years' War, 
gained a great victory over the infidels at St. Gothard, on the 

(279) 



280 VIENNA. 

Raab, and from that time the sultan had been busily preparing 
his revenge. 

In 1683 the grand vizier, Kara Mustapha, marched with an 
immense army and powerful train to lay siege to Vienna, and 
humble it and its master in the dust. Leopold stood not 
upon the order of his going, but, with his family, court and 
thousands of inhabitants, he went at once. The country was 
filled with fugitives, carts and plunder, and the Turks, falling 
upon the hindermost, slaughtered or made captive as they saw 
fit. On the 7th of July they drew their lines around the city 
and leisurely proceeded to reduce it. So secure did the vizier 
feel against counter-attack on his great army that he disdained 
to fortify his camps. 

Vienna, with its strong fortifications, its artillery, magazines 
and public buildings, had been confided to the charge of the 
Count de Staremberg, a thorough theoretical soldier. He burned 
the suburbs outside the walls, so as to clear the way for his guns, 
and then, with a garrison of ^arhaps 15,000 effectives, he set 
about the task of defending the capital against probably five 
times that many. Staremberg's garrison was largely made up 
of citizens and the students of the university, armed and enrolled 
for the emergency. His regular troops did not exceed 10,000. 
Mustapha had three hundred guns and a brave, devoted and 
war-trained army, strong enough in numbers to entirely encircle 
the city and to send a " corps of devastation " 40,000 strong to 
kill, burn and destroy through Hungary, Silesia and Moravia. 
This force with its roving commission was very successfully met 
and parried by the Duke of Lorraine with 30,000 men ; but he 
had been early driven away from supporting distance of Vienna, 
and could render no actual assistance to the garrison after the 
first few days of the siege. 

The Turks broke ground for their first trenches in the suburb 
of St. Ulric, on the 14th of July, about fifty yards from the ditch 
which, partly dry, partly flooded, extended around the walls. 
Their first breaching batteries were speedily planted and a storm 
of solid shot was poured upon the masonry. Staremberg was 
grievously wounded at the very outset by a heavy fragment of 



THE CITY INVESTED. ggl 

stone, but refused to rest or turn over the command. He was 
the soul of the defence, cheering, animating, encouraging every- 
where. By July 22d the Turks had worked their way up to 
the palisading, which the garrison could defend only with sword 
and with scythes fastened to long poles, but they fought so vig- 
orously and well, that not until the 7th of August did the be- 
siegers succeed in winning the counterscarp. Then came the 
work of digging their way down into the ditch in face of a sharp 
fire from the parapet. They here resorted to tunneling, for the 
besieged, though short of powder and hand-grenades, found an 
inventive genius in the Baron de Kielmansegg, who not only 
made a very fair powder, but manufactured shells out of stiff 
clay, that, dropped and exploded among the burrowing Mussul- 
mans, worried them infinitely and greatly retarded their work. 
Once in the ditch the Turks resorted to their specialty — mining. 
They had utterly destroyed the walls in many places a century 
before, and hoped again to ruin them now. Provisions were run- 
ning short, ammunition was scant and poor, disease was thinning 
the ranks of the defenders, and when the 22d of August came, it 
was conceded that they could not hold out more than three days. 
Most of the cannon were broken or dismounted. The walls 
were honey-combed, the foundations shattered by mines. The 
situation was critical in the last degree, and Staremberg, vainly 
imploring aid from the Duke of Lorraine, wrote him that not 
another instant could be lost if Vienna was to be saved. But so 
secure was the Turkish leader of his prize and the rich plunder 
that awaited him, that he refrained from assault, confidently ex- 
pecting the city to capitulate, and never dreaming of interference 
from outside. 

But in his flight and refuge Leopold had appealed for aid to 
the only man then living who was a terror to the Tartar, John 
Sobieski, King of Poland. Rich and powerful Austria begged 
this little monarchy to come to the rescue of the empire and the 
Christian world; and, at the head of 25,000 veteran troops, 
Sobieski started. He had to march nearly six hundred miles 
the winding way he came, but on the 5th of September he was 
crossing the bridge of Tuln, fifteen miles above Vienna. His 



282 VIENNA. 

cavalry were superbly mounted, uniformed and equipped; his 
infantry were in rags and tatters. The people looked aghast at 
their poverty-stricken appearance, but Sobieski laughed it off. 
" Those fellows," said he, " have taken an oath to wear no 
clothes except those of the enemy. In the last war they were 
all dressed as Turks." And his hardy soldiers seemed to de- 
light in the joke. On September 7th the army of Poland had 
joined that of Germany, and the united forces were now 74,000 
strong. Four sovereigns were among the leaders — ^^Sobieski of 
Poland, Maximilian of Bavaria, John George III. of Saxony, and 
Charles V., Duke of Lorraine. To the first-named was accorded 
the command-in-chief, for he was already recognized as the finest 
soldier then in the ranks of war. Sobieski lost no time in or- 
ganizing his forces. He well knew the desperate condition of 
affairs in Vienna, and that he could not too soon appear before 
the walls to the relief of the suffering garrison. Two days were 
spent in assigning the various brigades and regiments to appro- 
priate commanders, and in instructing his generals in the plan 
of operations. Then, on the 9th of September, the army pushed 
forward to force their way over the broken and rugged heights 
that intervened between them and Vienna, dragging their artil- 
lery with them. So difficult a task did this prove that the Ger- 
mans gave it up and left their guns behind ; but the Polanders, 
better disciplined and far more determined, dragged theirs over 
rock and ravine, and, after two days' vehement exertion, suc- 
ceeded, on the night of September nth, in bringing twenty- 
eight guns to the brow of the heights overlooking the plain of 
Vienna ; and these were all that Sobieski could count on for the 
assault of an army in position, that by this time amounted to 
nearly 200,000 men. The march had been most tortuous and 
difficult ; the defiles were steep, crooked and narrow, and, had 
the grand vizier possessed the first elements of military science, 
he would have seized the passes, where a few hundred deter- 
mined men could have beaten back" thousands ; but, in stupid 
over-confidence, he allowed them to come on, and, at dawn on 
the morning of the 12th of September, the army of Sobieski, 
then 70,000 strong, swept down upon him. 



S5BI£SKI to THE RESCUE. ^gS 

They had reached the crest of the Calemberg on the previous 
evening, and signalled their coming to the well-nigh exhausted 
defenders. Then, without delay, the general-in-chief set about 
the disposition for the morrow. To his own, the Polish army, 
was assigned the extreme right of the line, under the command 
of General Sublonowski. The troops of Bavaria and Saxony 
were posted on the left wing, under their own princes. The 
Austrians, under the Duke of Lorraine, occupied the centre ; 
while a fourth corps, under the Prince of Waldeck, was ex- 
tended well over to the left, to feel its way along the Danube 
and hasten into the city if the besiegers were driven back. Each 
division was formed in four lines, the reserves being massed be- 
hind the centre of each, and forming the fourth line. A redis- 
tribution of the guns was made, and they, with the infantry, were 
placed in the front line of the entire army. The cavalry were 
placed in the second line, with orders to move forward and 
occupy the intervals between the infantry brigades as soon as 
they got well down upon the plain. 

Sobieski, from the heights of the Calemberg, had carefully 
reconnoitered the position of the Turks. " That vizier is an 
ignorant fellow," said he ; " we shall beat him." 

Two hours before dawn he and some of his principal officers 
attended religious services and partook of the holy sacrament. 
Then, at the first break of day, rolling their guns by hand before 
them, the allied troops slowly, steadily advanced. Almost at 
the same instant one-half the Turkish army began a vigorous 
assault on the walls of Vienna, the other half marched forward 
to meet Sobieski. 

Close under the heights the ground was cut up into vineyards, 
ravines and ridges. The cavalry of the Turks, which had ad- 
vanced with great spirit, were met by fierce discharges from the 
guns which they strove in vain to reach, and at length, thrown 
into confusion by the rapid fire and the broken nature of the 
ground, they broke and galloped back in much disorder. While 
the)' were being rallied, some of the Turkish generals led for- 
ward the infantry to the foot-hills, and then began to breast the 
heights against the slowly descending allies. All at once the 



284 VIENNA. 

guns of Sobieski ceased their thunder, and with one accord the 
bristhng lines of infantry marched out beyond them ; then, with 
mighty shout, pikemen and musketeers came charging down the 
slopes at the irregular masses of the Turks. It was a dashing 
and impetuous assault: the Moslems could make no stand what- 
ever against it. Back they went, through the ravines and vine- 
yards, closely pressed b)' the cheering allies, and at last they 
were forced fairly and squarely out upon the open plain. Here 
Sobieski and his generals halted their men, rapidly aligned the 
battahons, opened well out to the right and left; while, in prompt 
obedience to their instructions, the glittering regiments of the 
cavalry came trotting down in their tracks, and rapidly ranging 
up into line in the intervals between the brigades. At the same 
time willing hands were at work on the guns, and by noon they 
were once again in position in front of the line of battle, ready 
to reopen their thunder. Thus far everything had gone admira- 
bly with the allies. Now they were to fight upon the level, and 
here the wild Turkish horsemen would have a better chance to 
show their mettle. 

Meantime things had gone badly with Kara Mustapha. The 
grand assault on the walls had been repulsed with heavy loss. 
The besieged, animated by the sight of their coming comrades, 
fought with great valor and determination. Then he was dis- 
mayed by the ease with which his troops had been whipped back 
from the heights by the German infantry, and now, thoroughly 
alarmed, as he marked the gallant and spirited bearing of the 
Polish lancers as they rode up into line, their bright banneroles 
waving and flashing in the sunlight, he hastily sent orders to 
concentrate the entire army on the plain to face the allies, and, 
in much excitement, strove to establish his lines in effective 
order. The Pasha of Diarbeker was assigned to command his 
right wing; the Pasha of Buda the left. The vizier himself was 
in rear of the centre with the generals of tlie Janissaries and 
Spahis to assist and advise him. All the time his infidel hordes 
were keeping up a deafening chorus of shouts and yells. They 
distrusted their leader; had no respect for his ability, and, al- 
though in overwhelming force, were nervous and uneasy about 



THE TURKS UTTERLY DEFEATED 285 

the safety of their camps in rear, where many of them had left 
the women and children of their families. And now the vizier 
committed an act of savage cruelty and vengeance. He had a 
large number of prisoners of all ages and conditions ; some his- 
torians put the number at 30,000. He ordered his Tartars to 
put them all to death, and the inhuman mandate was as brutally 
carried out. 

On the side of the allies all was disciplined .silence. In per- 
fect composure the lines were accurately dressed; the army en- 
joyed a brief resting spell; then at length Sobieski, sabre in 
hand, rode out to the front of the centre and gave the signal. 
Sudden as the flash of their own guns six splendid regiments of 
Polish cavalry leaped forward to the charge, and with bared 
sabres and quivering lances bore down on the very centre of the 
Turkish position. In vain footman, Janissary and Spahi braced 
themselves for the shock and struggled to hold their ground 
against them ; these northern horsenfen rode through or over 
everything and everybody, and, never drawing rein, overturned 
the very squadrons that surrounded and guarded the vizier him- 
self The Spahis rallied and fought bravely, but the vizier turned 
his back and fled for safety, followed by his great retinue of at- 
tendants and courtiers. The Janissaries then fought without 
their usual spirit. The Tartars broke and ran for the camp in 
search of such booty as they could lay hands on. In front of 
the camp the vizier once more attempted to rally and form hi.s 
lines, but by this time the entire army of Sobieski was charging^ 
home upon them and the soldiers would rally for nobody, much 
less for a man who had set the example of luxury and effeminacy 
in camp, and cowardice in battle. By three o'clock in the after- 
noon the whole Mussulman army, abandoning its vast encamp- 
ment, was in disorderly flight eastward down the valley of the 
Danube, pursued and sabred by the Polish cavalry. 'The siege 
of Vienna was raised in good earnest. 

That night the army of Sobieski, advancing in disciplined 
order, bivouacked on the plain around the abandoned camp, while 
eager greetings passed between their officers and those of the 
brave defenders of the city. Vienna could not have held out 
another day, and knew it well. 



286 VIENNA. 

Early on the 1 3th of September the rich camp of the Orientals 
was thrown open to the plunder of the soldiery. A horrible 
sight met their view in the vast number of dead, slain by order 
of the vizier on the previous day, and the corpses of Turkish 
women and children, butchered by husbands and fathers because 
they could neither take them with them in their flight, nor could 
they bear to leave them to the possible ill treatment of the con- 
querors. The amount of money and valuables left behind by 
Kara Mustapha in his panicky flight is simply incalculable. 
The Germans and Poles were made rich. King John Sobieski 
wrote to his wife : " The grand vizier has made me his heir, 
and I have found in his tents to the value of many millions of 
ducats." 

And so, with very little loss of life among his army, Sobieski 
of Poland had saved the Empire of Austria. It was a crowning 
and decisive victory. The losses of the Turks were so great 
in life, treasure and military property that the lesson proved 
most salutary. They fell back to their own provinces in the 
East, and henceforth abandoned all attempts upon the Christian 
capitals and strongholds up the Danube. 

Had Vienna been taken by the Turks it would perhaps have 
been held as Constantinople has been held. Its churches would 
have become pagan mosques, and the followers of Islam would 
have occupied the heart of a populous and wealthy country. 
Powerless to help himself, the emperor had called in Sobieski. 
Him the people of Vienna welcomed and honored as they would 
a deliverer from Heaven. Entering the city he was overwhelmed 
with their acclamations, praises and gratitude. He could barely 
force his horse along the streets. He was their deliverer — their 
hero. They forgot their own monarch who had abandoned 
them. They saw only Sobieski. Gallant Staremberg came to 
hail him as their preserver. The soldiers called him leader and 
liberator. He was the central figure of popular acclaim and 
enthusiasm. Poland had saved Austria. The first part of the 
old fable of the lion and the mouse had been enacted. 

But there it ended. Once safe and restored to his capital, a 
haughty nod was the sole reward the emperor vouchsafed the 




COUNT DE STAREMBERG DEFENDING THE WALLS OF VIENNA 
AGAINST THE TURKS.— P. Martin. 



Ingratitude of austria. 



28V 



king, and, when dissension and strife over its elective monarchy 
arose in Poland soon after, three powerful and jealous neighbors 
took advantage of the snarl to pounce upon and divide up the 
little kingdom amongst them, and Austria, who owed her life to 
Poland, was the most rapacious and cruel of her plunderers. 
Poland, stifled and strangled by the hand she raised from the 
dust, is no longer a nation. 




Biahop Kuloiiilbch, Coimi Siaicnibcrg. Sobieski. Elector of Saxony. Elector of Bavaria. 
" THE GALLANT STAREMBERG CAME TO HAIL HIM AS THEIR PRESERVE*." 

19 



NARVA. 




NDtE Gustavus Adolphus, Sweden had be- 
rome renowned as the most scientific fight- 
ing nation in Europe. The skill, discipline 
and valor of the Swedish troops were uni- 
versally admitted to be superior to anything 
yet developed in Christendom. The de- 
scendants of Gustavus Vasa bade fair to 
increase the limits and power of the king- 
dom, but when he died at Liitzen, the greater 
Gustavus left no son to take his throne. His daughter, prevail- 
ing upon the states of Sweden to elect her cousin, son of the 
Count Palatine, in her place, abdicated and went to live in Rome. 
Charles Gustavus X. proved a soldierly and ambitious ruler, but 
he too died young ; his son Charles XI., a warrior like his pre- 
decessors, then came to the throne, married the daughter of the 
King of Denmark, and of this marriage there was born on the 
morning of June 17, 1682, the most extraordinary ruler yet ac- 
credited to Sweden, and one of the most brilliant, distinguished 
and extraordinary men the world ever saw. This was the soldier 
Charles XII. 

The death of his parents, when he was a mere boy, left him 
for a time in the hands of guardians, but, when only fifteen years 
of age, the young prince demanded and received recognition as 
King of Sweden. Like the great Gustavus, he was an earnest 
student of history and of military works ; a fine linguist and a 
fair scholar in other branches ; but for all manner of bodily and 
athletic exercises he early manifested the strongest liking. He 
was an accomplished horseman before his tenth year, and had 
learned all the drill of the soldier. The hero of his boyish ad- 
C288) 



CHARLES XII. CROWNED. 289 

miration was Alexander the Great, whose career his own was 
to so strongly resemble. 

Charles XII. was crowned King of Sweden on the 24th of 
December, 1697, being then sixteen years old. His kingdom 
embraced much that is now Russian territory east of the Baltic, 
and the most valuable portion of Pomerania and the duchies of 
Bremen and Verden. His army and navy, thanks to the care 
and wisdom of his father, were both in great discipline and effi- 
ciency, while the treasury of Sweden was far richer than it ever 
had been. With everything in his favor, therefore, Charles began 
his reign, but it would have been better for him and for Sweden 
could he have remained three years longer at his studie.s. 

The moment he became ruler of Sweden and master of his own 
movements, King Charles threw aside books and maps and gave 
himself up to a life of exciting field-sports, and for nearly two 
years his time was spent in bear and boar hunting. He rarely 
appeared at the councils of his ministers, and when he did, it was 
only to sit cross-legged on the table, scowling at one after an- 
other as they spoke of matters of national importance which he 
did not understand. The ambassadors of foreign nations in 
their private letters reported him to be a man of mean capacity, 
and this opinion of him soon spread throughout Sweden. At 
this time he was fond of dress and high living, but for women he 
cared nothing at all. The one prominent characteristic which 
ought to have given his advisers an inkling of the strength of 
character that lay under this mask of laziness and indifference, 
seemed to have been almost unnoticed. His promise, his word, 
was better than a bond. From first to last Charles the Twelfth 
was the soul of integrity ; and a liar, a cheat or a swindler he 
hated from his inmost soul. 

Against this indolent young monarch, dreamily secure in his 
kingdom under the terms of the peace of Ryswick, three pow- 
erful neighbors combined in secret. First was his own cousin, 
Frederick IV., King of Denmark ; the second was Augustus, 
King of Poland ; the third, and by long odds the most powerful 
and dangerous, was Peter the Great, Tsar of Russia, then known 
as Muscovy. 



290 NARVA. 

The enmity of the first grew out of the hatred always existing 
between the Danes and Swedes, and a family quarrel springing 
from the indignities heaped by King Frederick upon the Duke 
of Holstein, brother-in-law to Charles of Sweden. The jealousy 
of the second, King Augustus of Poland (whose court was 
eclipsed in splendor only by that of Louis XIV. of France), was 
excited by the growing power and importance of Sweden, and 
was readily fanned into insidious hatred by the renegade Patkul, 
who had escaped a death sentence by flight, and was now taking 
refuge at the Polish court and doing all in his power to incite the 
king to war against the country from which he was exiled. The 
ready co-operation of the third, the great ruler of Russia, was 
easily secured. He was building up a noble empire of his own, 
had extended his dominions to the Sea of Azof on the southeast 
by victories over the Turks, and now he needed the lands on the 
shores of the Baltic which, though occupied by the very people 
who were closely allied by blood to his subjects, were held by 
Sweden. These three monarchs secretly formed their combina- 
tion to ruin Charles XII. and rob his kingdom of all its posses- 
sions east and south of the Baltic. 

The news reached the capital at Stockholm none too soon, and 
great was the consternation. There was not, at that moment, a 
general of any note or experience in the Swedish army, and the 
ministers were dismayed. The king was off boar-hunting when 
the tidings came to him that the Saxons (Augustus of Poland 
was also Elector of Saxony) had invaded his province of Livonia. 
Instantly he hurried to Stockholm, summoned his council, and 
arose before them to speak. They listened with amazement that 
rapidly gave way to respect. They saw in their king a new man, 
young, but strong and resolute. 

" Gentlemen," said he, " I am resolved never to begin an un- 
just war, nor ever to finish a just one but by the destruction of 
my enemies. My resolution is fixed. I will attack the first that 
declares against me ; and after having conquered him, I hope I 
shall be able to strike terror into the rest." 

From that moment the whole character of the king seemed 
changed. He was now just eighteen years old. He abandoned 



DENMARK HUMBLED. 291 

once and for all the garb of the court, and appeared in the rough 
service dress of the army, a dress that was his invariable cos- 
tume from that time forth to his dj'ing day. The long-skirted, 
single-breasted, snug-fitting frock-coat of coarse dark blue cloth, 
with rolling collar and copper buttons : not a star, not an 
" order," not an ornament upon breast or shoulder ; huge jack- 
boots coming way above the knee, and gauntlets reaching 
almost to the elbow. These were now the features of the royal 
toilet. He had been fond of the pleasures of the table. Now he 
banished wine from his board and became an advocate of total 
abstinence, while his daily bread was ordered of the simplest, 
coarsest character. What was good enough for his soldiers was 
good enough for him. His constitution was robust, his frame 
tall, well-knit and hardened : he was in admirable physical trim 
for a sharp campaign, and with the histories of Alexander and 
Caesar fresh in his memory, he placed himself at the head of his 
troops and launched out on his career as a soldier — a career that 
proved the wildest, strangest, most romantic and adventurous, 
perhaps the maddest, of any monarch ever known. 

On the 8th of May, 1700, Charles XH. left his capital, Stock- 
holm, to take the field. He never saw it again. In a few days 
more, leaping into the surf in his impatience, sword in hand, the 
young king landed on Danish soil and led his men against Co- 
penhagen. " What noise is that ? " he asked of Major Stuart, 
who was at his side. " It is the whistling of the enemy's bullets. 
Sire," was the answer. " Good ! " said Charles ; " henceforth that 
shall be my music'' and so it proved. In less than six weeks he 
had wrested a treaty of peace. The King of Denmark had been 
pounced upon and humbled before his allies could come to his 
aid. 

And now the King of Poland with a formidable army was 
assailing Riga, capital of Livonia; and the Tsar of Muscovy, with 
100,000 men, was marching westward to join his confederates. 
Riga was superbly defended by an old Swedish general. Count 
D'Alberg, and Augustus could accomplish nothing there, while 
the King of Sweden was left free to turn his entire attention to 
the coming host of Peter the Great, 



292 NARVA. 

On the first of October, 1700, the Muscovite army halted 
before Narva. This Httle town had been founded by Walderriar 
in the thirteenth century, and though lying only ninety-five 
miles west-southwest of St. Petersburg, was still a Swedish port, 
ten miles inland from the gulf It was in bitter cold wintry 
weather, but both Sweden and Russia were accustomed to war at 
such seasons, and, despite the extreme inclemency of the weather, 
their movements went on. 

Bitterly as the young King of Sweden felt against his kins- 
man, Frederick of Denmark, and exasperated as he was against 
Augustus of Poland, he regarded both as too small game for 
his arms ; more than that, he was doubly incensed against the 
Tsar of Russia, for at the very moment when this monarch was 
plotting against him, with the Kings of Poland and Denmark, 
three ambassadors from St. Petersburg were still at Stockholm, 
" who had lately sworn to the renewal of ah inviolable peace." 
Charles XII. was a man of his word, and duplicity aroused his 
intense ire. He absolutelj' passed by Augustus and his armies, 
after his phenomenal invasion and humiliation of Denmark. He 
was all eagerness to meet this renowned ruler of Russia, no 
matter how many men he might have, and teach him a lesson — 
and he did it. Unfortunately for himself and for Sweden, he did it 
with such ease that from that time forth he had no just concep- 
tion of the power and resources of his rival, and the startling 
victory he won at Narva was the absolute introduction to his 
subsequent reverses. 

Peter the Great, who had learned shipbuilding in Holland and 
England as an apprentice, who had fathered all the arts of peace 
introduced in Russia at this time, and who had enjoyed but lit- 
tle opportunity of studying the arts of war, now found himself in 
the field with a large army of untrained, but most docile and 
obedient Russian soldiers. Placing a German officer, the Duke 
de Croi, in chief command, he himself served with the rank of 
lieutenant, saying that he wished to learn that profession as he 
had his trade, practically. Nevertheless he had learned in his 
travels far more than his nobles knew, and it was he who super- 
intended the laying out of the camp around Narva, the digging 



PREPARATIONS OF PETER. 293 

of the trenches, and the establishment of field fortifications to 
defend them from assault from without, which he felt sure would 
soon come. None of the Russian officers had any practical 
knowledge of the art of war as now practiced in western Europe. 
The only instructed regiments were those commanded by Ger- 
man officers, who had been bought into the service by Peter the 
Great. The rest of the vast army, according to Voltaire, were 
" barbarians, forced from their forests, and covered with the 
skins of wild beasts ; some armed with arrows, and others with 
clubs. Few of them had fusees ; none of them had ever seen a 
regular siege ; and there was not one good cannoneer in the en- 
tire army." 

Peter the Great is said to have had one hundred and fifty guns 
in the trenches against Narva and never to have made a breach ; 
while from the rude and hastily improvised fortifications of the 
little city there came such an accurate and death-dealing fire 
from the guns, that whole ranks were mowed down. Baron de 
Hoorn, the commandant of Narva, had not one thousand Swed- 
ish regulars ; yet the Russians hammered away at him for ten 
weeks and never gained a point. 

On November 5th the tsar learned that the King of Sweden 
had sailed across the Baltic with two hundred transports ; had 
landed, and, with less than twenty thousand men, was marching 
to the relief of Narva. Peter had then eighty thousand in the 
trenches ; but he knew the relative merits of the two armies ; he 
knew that only by an overwhelming force could he hope to beat 
such troops as those of Sweden, and he ordered that another 
corps of 30,000 men, then at Pleskow, should come to him with 
all haste. Then he did a thing that in any one but Peter the 
Great might have been misunderstood. He left his army in 
charge of de Croi, and he himself went to hasten the march of 
the 30,000, hoping to surround and hem in the King of Sweden. 

The latter had landed at Pernau, on the Gulf of Riga, and, 
with 4,000 horse and only 4,000 infantry — all who could keep 
up with him — he had made a rapid march to Revel. In order 
to meet and check him, the Russian commander resorted to the 
following odd disposition of his force : The main body remained 



294 NARVA. 

in the trenches besieging Narva ; but some 30,000 troops were 
planted across the Revel road, about three miles west of Narva. 
A mile farther to the west 20,000 were posted across the path ; 
and still farther out, towards the coming Swedes, was an ad- 
vanced guard of 5,000 men. 

It was with only 8,000 soldiers that Charles XII. suddenly 
appeared before this outpost. He attacked without an instant's 
delay, and with such force and impetuosity, that the Russians 
ran in terror and confusion. They came flocking down the road 
and across the fields toward the second line in such dismay and 
disorder, that the officers of the 20,000 post were certain that an 
overpowering force of Swedes must be at their backs, and gave 
the order to retire. Orderly at first, this retreat speedily became 
a mad rush for the rear. Twenty-five thousand men ran like 
sheep before eight thousand, and by far the greater number had 
not even seen the pursuers. Not until safe within their intrench- 
ments did the Russians halt, and at last, having overthrown line 
after line, post after post, the Swedish army drew up, breathless 
and tired out, in front of an enemy ten times its strength. 

The situation was enough to " demoralize " an old soldier, 
but it seemed only to inspire this young warrior. " My eight 
thousand Swedes," said he, " can drive a hundred thousand Rus- 
sians," and, never heeding the " croaking " of one or two of his 
generals, Charles ordered the instant attack of the Russians. It 
was perhaps the best thing to be done under the circumstances. 
They had not had time to discover his numerical weakness ; they 
were all in confusion and disorder. He could gain little or noth- 
ing by delay ; they could gain everything. " With the aid of 
God," was his watchword, as just at noon on the 30th of No- 
vember, 1700, Charles of Sweden dared to attack an army in 
position, intrenched and having one hundred and fifty cannon, 
when he had but that handful — eight thousand men. 

For a few moments his light guns blazed away at the Rus- 
sian intrenchments ; then, with a blinding snow-storm at their 
backs and greatly aiding them, by concealing their lack of sup- 
ports, with fixed bayonets the Swedish infantry rushed in, 
Charles himself leading and directing the attack against the 



FIERY IMPETUOSITY OF CHARLES. 295 

right of the Muscovite line, where he hoped to find his enemy, 
the tsar, and measure swords with him. But Peter was far away 
from the field, and all ignorant of the lesson his troops were 
learning at such cost. Early in the attack a spent bullet struck 
the King of Sweden, but lodged in the folds of his heavy black 
neck-cloth and did no harm. Then his horse fell dead under 
him ; he leaped upon another, saying, laughingly, " These fellows 
make me go through my exercise," then, with drawn sword, 
dashed in to the extreme front. For half an hour, perhaps, the 
Russians stood firm against this first attack, then broke and ran 
back in confusion upon their reserves, and it was found impossi- 
ble to rally them. For two hours longer the lines were de- 
fended against the Swedes, but the king rode to and fro urging 
his men with such fiery impetuosity, that they were nerved to 
unusual exertions, and at last, seeing conclusive indications that 
the Russians were breaking, he led forward his slender but dis- 
ciplined line in gallant assault, and in another moment the 
Swedish infantry were swarming over the works. Then Charles 
placed himself at the head of his horsemen and rode in, charging 
the reserves, sabring the fugitives. This proved too much for 
the Russian right; it broke in utter con.sternation and fled for 
the bridge crossing the river Narva, closely pursued by the 
dragoons. The bridge broke under its weight of crowding 
fugitives and let them down into the stream, where many were 
drowned ; but a large number, cut off from escape, took refuge 
among the nearest buildings, and, under direction of their offi- 
cers, strove to resume the defensive ; but the king's dragoons 
were among them in an instant ; three prominent generals, Dol- 
gorouky, Goloffkin and Federowitz, finding themselves sur- 
rounded and cut off, and learning that the king himself was 
heading their assailants, asked to be led before him, and there 
laid their swords at his feet. No sooner was this done than 
Duke de Croi, believing the Swedes to be in great force, and 
finding that his undisciplined soldiers would stand no longer, 
came forward and surrendered, causing 30,000 men to lay down 
their arms. 

These distinguished officers in their -humiliation and defeat 



296 NARVA. 

expected to be treated with harshness by the Swedish king. 
On the contrary, he received them with quiet courtesy, directed 
his officers to entertain them as guests, gave immediate orders 
that the subalterns and the rank and file should be shipped 
across the Narva and set free. In this way he had managed, by 
nightfall, to rid himself of some 40,000 enemies. 

During this eventful day of November 30th, therefore, the 
young King of Sweden had terribly beaten an army in position, 
and had sustained a loss of only six hundred men ; while in the 
defence of their trenches the Muscovites had lost eight thousand. 
Many more had been drowned in attempting to escape over the 
bridge of the Narva ; but there was still, standing at bay, a force 
of 30,000 men under General Wade, and, if they only knew 
it, it was in their power to annihilate the little army of Sweden. 
But King Charles rapidly gathered in the abandoned artillery 
in the trenches, and strengthened the position he had taken 
between the camp and the city ; then calmly lay down on the 
ground for a few hours sleep, intending at daybreak to fall upon 
Wade and complete his work ; but, at two o'clock in the morn- 
ing, there came a messenger from that general. He had heard 
of the courtesy and kindness with which his brother-officers had 
been treated ; he saw no hope of holding out until the tsar could 
come to his relief, and he begged for himself the same terms 
that had been accorded his comrades-in-arms. Awakened from 
his sleep the king received the message. " Tell him," said he, 
" to march forward at dawn and cause his command to lay down 
their arms and colors, and I will listen to him." Then he re- 
sumed his nap. But at daybreak he and his men were in readi- 
ness, and, in the bitter wintry morning of December ist, thirty 
thousand Russian soldiers, officers and men, bareheaded, as they 
conceived to be their proper mien, and with humiliation mingled 
with gratitude, laid down their arms, their flags, their swords 
before the body-guards of the King of Sweden. The subalterns 
and men were instantly marched off across the Narva, leaving 
their officers and leaders behind, and in this extraordinary man- 
ner had Charles XII. defeated, disarmed and dismayed an army 
that could have swept him out of existence had it realized its 
power. 



CHARLES' GREATEST TRIUMPH. 



297 



Narva was a glory to Sweden. The people went wild over 
the wonderful achievement of their young king and their brave 
army. They naturally supposed that such a victory was only a 
prelude to conquests more glorious ; but the real results of 
Narva were the very opposite. To Russia it was a blessing in 
disguise. The great tsar quickly saw that he must learn, then 
teach his people, the art of war ; and he lost not a moment. As 
for Charles XII., this, his greatest triumph, was his worst defeat. 
It undermined his judgment and made his subsequent career 
simply madness. Let us follow him to Pultowa. 




CHARLES XII. RELIEVING NARVA. 




PULTOWA. 



' LL Europe was amazed at the victory of Charles XII. 
at Narva. The man who took the most practical 
and philosophical view of the matter was Peter 
the Great. " These Swedes," said he, " will teach 
us to fight," and, wisely determining to avoid 
meeting his confident young adversary in the 
field, until his army was in condition to make its 
numbers felt, the Tsar of Russia busied himself 
in reorganizing and instructing his land forces. For this pur- 
pose he induced many German officers to come to Russia as 
instructors and drill-masters. He entered into a new league 
with the King of Poland, by the terms of which it was agreed 
that 50,000 Saxon and German soldiers should be sent to 
Russia to serve in the pay of the tsar, while 50,000 Muscovites 
were to be drafted into the Polish army to learn there the art of 
war. The King of Sweden lost no time in breaking up this 
arrangement, which, had it been carried out, would have been 
fatal to his interests ; but he could not interfere with the system 
of instruction and improvement that was at once begun through- 
out the Russian army. 

Particular attention was paid to the artillery and cavalry. 
Churches were required to give up their bells to furnish the 
necessary gun-metal, foundries were built, and guns of excel- 
lent model and workmanship were speedily turned out. Peter 
organized regiments of dragoons, soldiers taught to fight either 
mounted or afoot, and his hardy peasantry, with their little Cos- 
sack horses, made capital material for this particular branch of 



TIRELESS ENERGY OF PETER. 299 

the cavalry arm. He established the Russian hussars modeled 
after those of Poland, the most dashing and brilliant hght cav- 
alry of Europe, superbly mounted and equipped; and h^ mfan- 
try were now constantly schooled in the manoeuvres and tactics 
of the German armies. From the day of Narva, Peter he 
Great was bending all his energies to the task of puttmg a stop 
to the victorious career of Charles XII. 

The latter had now launched out upon a campaign ot con- 
quest that had for its first object the dethronement of Augustus, 
Kinc'of Poland. He appeared before Riga in the early spring, 
crossed the Duna in the face of the Saxon army, whom, he de- 
feated in a spirited battle, drove them before him through Lithu- 
ania where town after town surrendered as he came, and 
marched triumphantly into Birsen, where Peter and Augustus 
had made their last league only a few months before. ihe 
Kin- of Poland summoned his nobles to meet at Warsaw and 
decide the future policy of the kingdom; and so great was 
the awe inspired by the victories of Charles that they refused the 
kina the support he needed, compelled him to abandon his 
league with Russia, and broke up in disorder in February, 1702, 
leaving matters in a worse state than they were before. 
' Then in his desperation, Augustus resorted to another ex- 
pedient.' Augusta von Konigsmark, reputed to be the most 
beautiful and brilliant woman in Europe, was his mistress; and 
such was his confidence, and her own, in her powers of fascina^ 
tion that it was determined between them that she should go to 
Lithuania, and see what feminine wiles could accomplish vvith 
the conqueror. She went-and returned discomfited Ihe 
young king refused to look at or speak to her; and the next 
news received of him was, that he was marching on Warsavv 
which he entered May 5th, 1702 ; and Augustus, finding himself 
forced to fight for his kingdom, rallied his Saxon troops and 
met the army of Sweden at Clissau, on the 13th of July. He 
had 24000; Charles had only half that number; but again the 
latter carried all before him, completely overthrew the Saxons, 
and pursued Augustus to Cracow. That winter he was master 
of all Poland ; and, on the 12th of July, 1703, the king was de- 



300 PULTOWA. 

throned and young Stanislaus Leczinsky chosen in his stead. 
Augustus managed to raise an army and give some further 
trouble ; but the King of Sweden pursued and fought the Saxons 
with relentless vigor. Stanislaus was duly crowned in October, 
1705, but meantime Peter the Great had marched upon and cap- 
tured Narva, and Charles XII., who was having everything his 
own way in Poland, found that Russia was robbing him of his 
provinces east of the Baltic. Determined to complete the ruin 
of Augustus, however, he let Narva go and pushed on, and, to 
the consternation of all Germany, now invaded Saxony. It was 
tiien that he committed his blackest deed of cruelty, and a viola- 
tion of the laws of nations, that has forever sullied his fair fame. 
Augustus yielded up to him the person of John Reinold Patkul, 
the ambassador of Russia, but formerly a Swedish subject, who 
had been accused of high treason, and the unfortunate man was 
condemned by Charles to a terrible death, that of being broken 
on the wheel. All Europe shuddered at the merciless revenge 
of the Swedish king, and, had not England, Holland and Ger- 
many been at that moment engaged in a fierce war with France, 
it is probable that the loud complaints- of the tsar against 
Charles would have brought down rebuke, if not punishment, 
on his head. But Sweden was winning new victories all the 
time, and the western powers had too much trouble of their own 
to care to become entangled with so vehement and vigorous a 
fighter as the young Norseland king Indeed, it was at this 
very time that England sent her most accomplished general, 
courtier and diplomat, John Churchill, Duke of Marlborough, 
with instructions to visit Charles XII. at his camp at Altranstad, 
and secure for Queen Anne the assurance that Sweden would 
not take up the cause of France. Charles had already given his 
word, in 1700, that he would not interfere in the quarrel be- 
tween Louis XIV. and the allies ; but Marlborough was incapa- 
ble of understanding that any man, much less a monarch, could 
or should abide by a promise when it led to a sacrifice of his 
own power or interest. He went back to England in complete 
confidence that he had found a man who meant what he said, 
and with the conviction that so far from interfering in the afifairs 



CHARLES DREAMS OF UNIVERSAL CONQUEST. 301 

of Western Europe, the end and aim of Charles' ambition was 
now the dethronement of Peter the Great. 

And so it was. The unbroken series of victories that had 
attended him caused the King of Sweden to believe that within 
a year he could conquer Russia, and then return and become 
the arbiter of European affairs. So confident was he that he 
was predestined to be a second Alexander the Great, that at this 
period he .sent officers into Asia and Egypt on secret expedi- 
tions to examine into the condition of the armies and fortifica- 
tions. He was dreaming of the conquest of the world. 

And now, in September, 1707, with a veteran army of 43,000 
men, every regiment filled to its maximum, Charles XII. 
marched eastward from Saxony, bent on the overthrow of Peter 
the Great. In Poland, Count Loewenhaupt was awaiting him 
with 20,000 more men, and in Finland there were 15,000 subject 
to his call. He had not a doubt of victory. 

But his advance was slow. It was mid-winter when he 
crossed the Niemen, and not until June, 1708, did he reach the 
Beresina, and not one action of importance had occurred. Now, 
however, came the battle of Holofzin. Twenty thousand Mus- 
covites were intrenched behind a morass and a rapid river; 
Charles waded through the stream with the water up to his neck, 
and leading alternately his cavalry and infantry, attacked them 
in their chosen position and whipped them out of it — a gallant 
and desperate fight — and it seemed as though nothing could 
withstand him. By this time the tsar had given up all idea of 
defending his frontiers, and was rapidly retiring towards Mos- 
cow. On September 22d the Swedes again won a spirited com- 
bat at Smolensko, on the Dnieper ; and now Moscow lay only 
two hundred miles away. 

By this time his army was short of supplies, and his generals 
ventured to urge the king to wait for Loewenhaupt, who, with 
20,000 men and abundant provisions and ammunition, was has- 
tening after him. But Charles seemed incapable of realizing the 
possibility of defeat or danger. He not only rejected all coun- 
sel but, to the utter consternation of his army, now turned south- 
ward, abandoning the high road to Moscow, and marching into 



302 PULTOWA. 

the heart of the wild, inhospitable and uncultivated region^i 
known as the Ukraine, whither he was led by the persuasions of 
that Mazeppa, then Prince of the Cossacks, whose wonderful ex- 
periences as a young man have formed the theme of so iiiuch 
romance. Mazeppa promised to join Charles with 30,000 men 
and aid him in the conquest of Russia, and they were to meet 
on the river Desna. But now the once hardy Swedish soldiers 
were dying by scores from cold and hunger, the horses of the 
artillery dropped exhausted in their tracks, and dozens of guns 
had to be abandoned ; the army lost its way in the dense marshy 
forests, and a march that should have occupied only four days 
was strung out to twelve. They were at the very point of 
starvation when they arrived at the rendezvous on the Desna, 
and found Mazeppa had failed them. Now misfortunes crowded 
upon them thick and fast. Loewenhaupt, with his priceless con- 
voy of wagons, was surrounded and cut off by the tsar himself 
with an overwhelming force. He managed to cut his way 
through with 5,000 men, and eventually to join his king, but 
everything else was lost, and the emaciated army of Sweden was 
now in a terrible plight. But the courage and obstinacy of the 
king seemed indomitable. He marched on, even though it was 
December, and on one day 2,000 soldiers, it is said, " fell dead 
with cold before his eyes." 

At the earliest break of spring, with but the skeleton of his 
once powerful army, with a mere 18,000 ragged and famishing 
men, the mad young monarch resumed his eastward march, and, 
towards the end of May, arrived before the walls of Pultowa, a lit- 
tle city on the river Vorskla, at the eastern end of the Ukraine. A 
large magazine and supply depot had here been established by the 
tsar, and could Charles succeed in taking it, not only would he 
be able to equip and feed his men, but the way to Moscow would 
be open. With blind infatuation he resolved upon the attempt 
though the garrison was 5,000 strong. Prince Menzikoff, with 
a formidable body of Cossack cavalry, was hovering about his 
flanks, and Peter the Great with a large army was hastening to 
the rescue. The lucky star of Sweden was setting in fire and 
blood. 



DISPARITY OF THE RIVAL FORCES. 303 

On May 27th the tsar with 70,000 men was only a few miles 
away. Charles rode forward to reconnoitre them ; his escort 
had a sharp skirmish with their advance, and as he was retiring 
towards camp a carbine bullet struck him in the heel, shattering 
the bone. For six hours he continued in the saddle giving no 
sign of his painful injury, until an aide noticed the blood drip- 
ping from his boot. Then the surgeons were summoned, and 
the knife had to be employed in dressing and cleansing the 
ghastly wound ; but he bore the severe operation with marvellous 
calm, he himself holding the injured leg, and, while the surgeons 
worked, giving his instructions for the assault on the morrow. 
It was the evening of July 7th, and the tidings that the tsar's 
entire army was advancing upon him determined him to meet 
him in battle at daybreak. 

And now, early on the morning of the 8th of July, the two 
rival monarchs confronted each other. Charles of Sweden, 
with his record of nine years of unbroken victory, was unable 
to mount his horse ; his men were weak and dispirited ; all were 
weighted down by the consciousness of their isolation hundreds 
of miles from home, surrounded, cut off, hemmed in by merciless 
foes — all were depressed but their indomitable king. Carried in 
a litter he made his appearance at their head, determined to lead 
them to the attack. 

With four iron field-pieces, 16,000 regulars, and perhaps 5,000 
local allies, the King of Sweden marched from his camp south 
of Pultowa against that of the tsar, who had crossed the river 
three miles west of the town and strongly intrenched his camp. 
The river here runs nearly eastward and sweeps along under 
the northern walls of the town. The Swedish army deployed 
facing north at earliest dawn, and was promptly met by the great 
array of Muscovy. Far over to the southeast, where the baggage, 
the unhorsed artillery and the scant supplies of Sweden were 
parked under a strong guard, anxious eyes watched the doubtful 
issues of the day. 

All had not been harmony among the generals of Sweden. 
Renschild, the field-marshal, who was the most skillful and ac- 
complished soldier serving under Charles, cordially disliked 

ao 



304 PULTOWA. 

Count Piper, the king's minister and confidant, and no love was 
lost between him and Loewenhaupt. The old unanimity was 
gone. Yet in the desperate strait in which they found themselves, 
all the generals strove to encourage and animate the younger of- 
ficers and the rank and file by recalling in spirited speeches the 
easy victory of Narva, and the king himself, borne in his litter 
at the extreme front, spoke cheeringiy and confidently to all. 

Just at half-past four in the morning the Swedish cavalry un- 
der Slipenbak came in sight of the squadrons of Russian dragoons 
drawn up to the west of the main camp. Strong redoubts, lined 
with field-guns, were already thrown up along their front, and 
with every moment the intrenchments grew stronger. There 
was not a moment to lose. The king gave the signal, " Charge 
and strike hard," and, with all their old fire and enthusiasm, the 
cuirassiers of Sweden thundered across the plain and dashed 
pell-mell among the Muscovites. In the vigor and fury of this 
first attack lay all the success of the day. Though far outnum- 
bering their opponents, the dragoons of Russia could not face 
such headlong impetuosity. The squadrons reeled, broke and 
ran, and Charles of Sweden exultingly shouted victory. He saw 
it in his grasp. At midnight he had sent General Creutz with 
5,000 dragoons by a wide detour to get around the right (west) 
flank of the Russian lines, and with orders to charge in force 
the moment the attack began in front. Now was the time for 
Creutz and his dragoons to make their appearance. But he 
never came. In the darkness of the night he had missed the 
way, and now at the instant when he was most needed Creutz 
was far away to the west. 

The tsar himself galloped among his cavalry, and with vehe- 
ment voice and gesture checked their disorder and re-established 
their lines. Menzikoff, their general, though having three horses 
killed under him, straightened out his squadrons and led them 
in for a counter attack. The Swedish horse were much broken 
by this time. The shock and inertia of the charge were gone 
and they were borne backward by the weight of foes, and their 
general, Slipenbak, was taken prisoner. At this moment, too, 
seventy guns in the intrenchments belched their deadly missiles 



THE SWEDES OVERWHELMED 305 

into the retiring- ranks, and horses and riders were rolled in 
agony over the plain. Ail was over with the cuirassiers, who 
had fought so superbly for Sweden in so many spirited combats. 
And then, leaping over their intrenchments, 30,000 Russian in- 
fantry swarmed down upon the slender ranks of the Swedish 
foot. Charles saw that he could not risk a general engagement 
at that point until his cavalry was rallied and placed in position. 
Slowly therefore his lines fell back, keeping a steady front to 
the foe, and the king despatched messengers to hurry forward 
the reserves and the guards left with the camp and baggage. 
It was now too evident that every man would be needed. The 
Russian army was no longer the disorderly, undiscipHned 
mob he had chased like sheep at Narva. Already had Peter's 
efforts prevailed. Already had Sweden taught Russia how to 
fight. 

Only too well : for here with a brilliant stroke of genius 
General Menzikoff was sent around the Swedish right flank at 
the head of a strong division of Russian cavalry. Peter served 
during the battle as major-general, apparently acting under the 
orders of General Sheremeto, but as emperor he rode every- 
where and was beyond question the leader of the day. It was 
he who gave Menzikoff his orders, and thus interposed nearly 
8,000 men between the Swedish right and their camp south of 
Pultowa. The reserves and camp-guards hastened forward to 
join Charles as ordered, but were pounced upon, surrounded 
and cut to pieces by Menzikoff, and now with Creutz and his 
5, 000 dragoons lost, no one could tell where, his reserve cut to 
pieces, Charles XII. found himself out on the open plain with 
only about 18,000 available men and four small guns, confront- 
ing and hemmed in by 70,000 with seventy cannon. And still he 
would not yield, would not despair. Quickly forming his infantry 
in two lines, with his remaining cavalry on the flanks, he pre- 
pared to resist the coming attack. 

At nine o'clock the battle was resumed, a general cannon- 
ade from the Russian lines being the signal. Almost the first 
shot killed the horses of Charles' litter. Others were put in. 
Then a second shot struck the litter itself, knocking it into 



306 PULTOWA. 

kindling wood and hurling the wounded king with violence to 
the ground. Still he staggered to his feet, a rude litter carried 
by men was improvised, and in this he lay cheering and en- 
couraging his soldiers, urging them to stand fast against the now 
advancing Russian lines, and never noting how his bearers, man 
after man, were being struck down by the bullets whose whist- 
ling was the music his mad soul loved. Twent\-one soldiers, 
one after another, were killed while carrying their monarch on 
that terrible morning, yet nothing seemed to strike him. All 
his efforts, all his bravery were vain. Mowed down by the 
incessant discharges of the Russian guns, swept b\- the fire of 
Russian musketry, the Swedes were being slowl)- annihilated, 
and, at last, as the enemy advanced in rapid charge, the first 
line reeled back upon the second, and the second gave way. In 
ten minutes more the remnant of the grand army of Sweden, 
that eight years before was the most disciplined and courageous 
of Europe, was in full flight. Prince Wirtemberg, gallant 
Renschild and other officers of note, striving to rally their men, 
were captured by the enemy. Menzikoff stormed the well-nigh 
defenceless camp. Count Piper and the officers of the court 
were taken prisoners, and east and west, right and left over the 
sterile plain of Pultowa, Russia was reaping rich vengeance for 
the disgrace of Narva. 

The king raged, stormed, scorned to fly, but General Ponia- 
towski caused him to be lifted on a horse, and with a small es- 
cort, despite his struggles and protestations, led him from the 
field. All was over with the army of Sweden. Never was vic- 
tory more decisive. With onh' fi\'e hundred followers, Charles 
XII. fled towards the Dnieper. 

Of the immediate results of the victory of Peter the Great at 
Pultowa, history tells that all the artiller)', baggage, camp-equi- 
page " and six millions in specie " fell into the hands of the victors. 
Nine thousand Swedes, Cossack allies included, were killed — six 
thousand Swedes with all their prominent generals were cap- 
tured. The shattered divisions that escaped under Loewenhaupt 
were pursued to the Boristhenes (Dnieper), where hundreds 
were drowned in attempting to cross ; the others were all taken 



MISFORTUNE AND DEATH OF CHARLES. 307 

prisoners, and Charles himself, now delirious with fever from his 
wound, was hurried away towards Turkey by Poniatowski and 
Mazeppa, and safely borne across the frontier. 

But his army was ruined and the cause of Sweden with it. 
From that time on he seems to have lost any mental balance he 
ever possessed. Five years were spent in Turkey in efforts to 
induce the sultan to place him at the head of an immense army 
with which to effect the conquest of Russia. Then came his 
marvellous ride in disguise across Europe to Stralsund on the 
Baltic, his final return to his kingdom, the immediate attack on 
Norway, and his death-blow before Fredericksliall on St. An- 
drew's Day, December ii, 171 8. A half-pound shot put an 
end to his adventurous life in his thirty-seventh year. He had 
reached the acme of prosperity — the depths of adversity. He 
had seen all Europe trembling before him, and had starved in 
darkness and disguise through cities which he had conquered 
but a short time before. Brave to rashness, firm to obstinacy, 
fatalist to madness, he was the author of his own downfall, and 
never could be brought to realize it. His was a career to be 
looked upon with wonder — perhaps admiration, but not to be 
held up for example. 

Had he been successful at Pultowa, which could hardly have 
been possible, his march on Moscow would have been unim- 
peded, and Russia would have been at his feet; but his over- 
throw led to consequences simply incalculable. Rid of his 
nearest, most dangerous and most implacable enemy, Peter the 
Great was now at leisure to build up and extend his great em- 
pire. He made Russia the centre of trade between Asia and 
Europe. He built great military roads and navigable canals. 
He founded cities and raised noble public buildings. . He ex- 
tended his realm to include and control the ports of the Baltic 
and the Black Seas. He called to his empire men of learning 
and science from all over Christendom. He raised Russia from 
a howling wilderness to the rank of the greatest empire in Eu- 
rope. " The Star of the North " had risen at Pultowa. 



BLENHEIM. 




(T the very time when Charles XII. was overthrow- 
ing kings and armies in Poland, Saxony and Rus- 
sia, a great war broke out in Western Europe. 
Louis XIV., the most illustrious monarch that 
had worn the crown of France since the days 
when Charlemagne was building up his empire — 
Louis XIV., " Le Grand Monarque," as his peo- 
ple delighted to call him, was in the hey-day of 
his pride. Slowly but surely he had been extend- 
ing the limits of his kingdom for nearly forty years, and now his 
power was so great that the rival states of Western Europe be- 
gan to look with alarm upon his increasing accessions. His 
was a strong and rich government. " Ships, colonies and com- 
merce " were supplied by his energy and statesmanship. His 
was a strong and rich country, compact, united, easily de- 
fensible, and under his reign, Turenne, Conde and Villars led the 
armies of France to invariable victory, and the genius of the 
great Vauban fortified her frontiers with permanent works that 
were unequalled on the face of the earth. It was a glorious 
epoch in the history of the gallant nation ; and now, emboldened 
by a long career of triumph, Louis XIV. decided en the step 
which turned the tide and arrayed all Western Europe against 
him. 

Charles II., King of Spain, was slowly dying, and without an 
heir. Louis XIV. determined to secure for the Bourbons the 
throne of Spain as well as that of France, on which they now 
had so firm a hold. The combination of the two kingdoms 
under one monarch would have made an empire so formidable 
(308) 



"THE GRAND ALLIANCE." 309 

as to instantly threaten the interests of all other thrones in 
Europe. Austria had long held a controlling interest in 
Spanish affairs, and she was the first to take alarm. 

Louis XIV., when he married the Infanta of Spain, in 1659, 
formally renounced all right of succession to the Spanish throne. 
Now, through his influence, the dying Charles named Philip, 
Duke of Anjou, and grandson of Louis XIV., his successor; and, 
although the King of France well knew that a general war 
would be the result, the instant the death of Charles was an- 
nounced, he sent his grandson in all haste to Spain as its king — 
Philip V. 

William III. was on the throne of England ; and while Aus- 
tria fumed and blustered over the daring aggression of France, 
England went to work with stern, set purpose. A powerful 
league, soon known as "The Grand Alliance," was formed under 
the guidance of William against the House of Bourbon ; and 
Austria, Holland, England, many of the German principalities, 
and presently Portugal, Savoy and Denmark joined forces with 
the avowed object of compelling France to release her hold on 
Spain. The death of King William, in 1702 (March 8th), de- 
layed matters but little. Queen Anne promptly " ratified " the 
action of her illustrious predecessor, and war against Louis XIV. 
was formally declared, and the greatest soldier of his day, the 
most brilliant, successful and superb conqueror and courtier 
England had yet known, stepped forward as commander-in- 
chief of the allied armies in the field. 

John Churchill, Duke of Marlborough, was born June 24th, 
1650. He had neither wealth, power nor education when he 
became a page of the royal Duke of York, but secured his first 
advancement, a commission in the guards, when just sixteen. 
A captain at twenty-two, he served in the Netherlands under 
the eye of that master of the art of war, Turenne, and won his 
unqualified praise by courage, brilliancy and dash. A hand- 
some person, wonderful address, and the admiration and worship 
of influential women did the rest. He came back to England a 
colonel, became a baron and general under James II., to whom 
he professed undying loyalty, and whom he abandoned without 



310 BLENHEIM. 

the faintest scruple on the landing of William of Orange ; and 
though this latter honest and truth-loving gentleman must have 
despised the turn-coat in his heart, he had use for his martial 
ability, sent him into Ireland as Earl of Marlborough, to reduce 
that turbulent populace to subjection, and then gave him chief 
command in the Netherlands, where he did splendid service in 
the field, and was speedily detected in treasonable acts in the 
cabinet, which led to his arrest and confinement in the Tower 
of London. But the outbreak of the great war of the Spanish 
succession called him again to the front. His wife, Sarah Jen- 
nings that was, had unlimited influence from her earliest girl- 
hood over Queen Anne, and secured his restoration to the chief 
command. Godolphin, the prime minister, was his son-in-law, 
and Lord Marlborough, through these two, virtually ruled his 
queen. He went forth to fight the battles of England, beyond 
all question, at home and abroad, her most powerful and influen- 
tial noble. 

In 1702 Marlborough drove the French out of Guelders, and 
Queen Anne made him Duke of Marlborough, the highest rank 
he could hope to attain; and in 1703 he hastened to the sup- 
port of Austria, joining his brilliant coadjutor, Prince Eugene 
of Savoy. In June, 1704, he stormed the French and Bavarian 
position at Donauwerth, and on August 13th fought and won 
his most brilliant and magnificent battle — Blenheim. 

His long and admirably conducted march, from Flanders up 
the Rhine, and then eastward towards Austria, has been the 
theme of many a military writer for years past, but space v.'ill 
limit us to the great battles fought under his leadership, and of 
these Blenheim was by long odds the mo.st decisive. 

Some thirty miles northeastward of the strong fortress of Ulm, 
the river Danube strikes on its left bank a range of rocky and 
precipitous heights, that begin just north of the twin-villages of 
Lauingen and Dillingen, and end with the cliffs of the Schallen- 
berg at Donauwerth, fifteen miles farther on. The southeast or 
right bank is aU flat and uninteresting along here, but the other 
side 15 dotted with numbers of pretty, home-like little coun- 
try towns, and intersected by numerous rapid and sparkling 



GEOGRAPHICAL POSITION. 3H 

streams that rise among the bold hills to the northwest and 
come tumbling down to join the Danube. The great high road 
from Ulm to Donauwerth stretches along parallel to the general 
direction of the river, and is sometimes crowded close to its left 
bank by the heights. After leaving Dillingen it runs through 
Hochstadt, Schweringen and Dapfheim, and crosses seven 
streams in less than ten miles. Just north of Hochstadt are two, 
whose banks are mere marshes. Three miles farther on, issuing 
from a deep valley among the heights, is another whose banks 
are steep and sudden ; this is the little Nebel. It is only twelve 
feet broad at its mouth ; with a good jumping-pole almost any 
school-boy could, in places, leap from one bank to the other; 
but it was a troublesome stream to cross on the 13th of August, 
1704. The high road spans it a mile west of its junction with 
the Danube. Between the bridge and the broad river were then 
two old stone mills run by water power; beyond them, nearer 
the Danube, in the angle between it and the Nebel, was a little 
country town with snug houses built of stone, and the low ridge 
on which they huddled together was criss-crossed with stone 
fences and breast-high walls. That insignificant town gave its 
name to one of the most renowned and glorious victories in the 
annals of war. England went wild over it, as well she might, 
for at Blenheim the Britons rose to the first rank among the 
military powers of Europe. 

There are other little villages on both banks of the Nebel, 
well up into the gorge where it rises. They are only a mile or 
two apart, for the country is populous and thickly settled. 
Facing northeast, we have Blenheim on our right, near the 
Danube ; Oberglauh in front of us and to the left of the high 
road, and Lutzingen up among the hills still farther to ou. .eft 
hand. Here, on the southwest bank of the Nebel, on the 12th 
of August, 1704, the army of France was leisurely going into 
camp along in the afternoon. In two long lines its tents were 
pitched from Blenheim up beyond Lutzingen, parallel to the 
stream and nearly a mile behind it. Fine soldiers had Marshal 
Tallard with him there — men who had fought under the banners 
of Louis XIV. all over Western Europe, and generally with great 



312 BLENHEIM. 

success. Three distinguished generals were to head the alHed 
forces of France and Bavaria in the coming fight. At least esti- 
mate their army consisted of 56,000 men, divided into the corps 
of Tallard, about 22,000 strong; that of Marslial Marsin, 26,000, 
and that of the Elector of Bavaria, which is estimated at from 
8,000 to 12,000 men. Fifty-six guns were distributed among 
the three corps, and when going into camp, the first corps was 
on the right towards Blenheim; the second (Marsin), from the 
high road to Oberglauh, in the centre; the third. Bavarian, on 
the extreme left. A stronger position was not to be found any- 
where in that part of Germany. The Danube, unfordable every- 
where for miles, and bridged only at Dillingen and Donauwerth, 
protected their right flank ; the rugged, precipitous heights 
amply secured their left against attack, and in front was the 
Nebel with its steep banks, yet boggy, miry shores. Tallard, 
seeing his horsemen getting in up to their horses' bellies in mud 
and mire while trying to water them, concluded that between 
Oberglauh and the mills, that little stream would prove an effec- 
tive barrier against cavalry attack, and gave himself no further 
anxiety on that score. But, even while going into camp that 
August afternoon, his light horse, scouting out towards Schwe- 
ringen, on the high road, ran slap into the British advance- 
guard. Marlborough and Prince Eugene were coming up the 
valley in search of him. 

From the moment of their first interview at Mondelsheim in 
June of that eventful year, these two great soldiers whose names 
are linked with such a career of victory, Marlborough and 
F.ugene, had conceived for each other an almost romantic re- 
gard and admiration. Each seemed at a glance to discover the 
hig,'_ 5pirit ^nd soldierly ability of the other. It was as though 
they had been made to fight as allies, so complete and uninter- 
rupted was the understanding between them, so admirably did 
they support and strengthen eacii other. At the outset they had 
been much hampered by the presence and interference of the mar- 
grave. Prince Louis of Baden, but this pompous and fussy old 
soldier had been induced to undertake the siege of Ingoldstadt, 
thus leaving his spirited colleagues to their own devices. They 



MARLBOROUGH AND EUGENE IN COMMAND. 3] 3 

had united their commands by brilliant manceuvring only a 
few days before, and now, in high hope and spirits, were march- 
ing rapidl}^ up the Danube in search of the Frenchmen. From 
the church tower at Dapfheim, on the afternoon of August 13th, 
they could see, five miles away, the long lines of tents across 
the Nebel, and their resolution was taken at once. Strong as 
was the position of Tallard, it was best to attack him before he 
could make it stronger. A Prussian general who had been long 
familiar with the ground, and some of Lord Marlborough's own 
officers, seeing from the preparations that an immediate assault 
was contemplated, ventured to dissuade him. The French were 
certainly 4,000, perhaps 8,000, more numerous, and had the 
choice of position ; but the two generals had discussed the whole 
matter and made up their minds. It was " now or never," for, 
with Villeroy and his army advancing to the support of Tallard, 
with the certainty of his fortifying the line of the Nebel if he 
were given any time at all, it was evident that they must strike, 
and strike at once. 

" I know the danger," said Lord Marlborough, " yet a battle 
is absolutely necessary, and I rely on the bravery and disci- 
pline of the troops, which will make amends for our disad- 
vantages." 

This ended all objections. Orders were issued that evening 
for a general engagement, and they were received with an en- 
thusiasm which justified Lord Marlborough's confidence. His 
army was encamped along the line of the Kessel, another of the 
little streams coming down from the heights. Prince Eugene 
with his 16,000 was on the extreme right and well up among 
the hills, but such hours of the early night of the I2th-I3th 
that the English general did not devote to needed rest and to 
an earnest interview with his chaplain, he gave to confidential 
talk with his colleague, planning the details of a battle so soon 
to be fought — a battle " which appeared to involve the fate of 
the Christian world." 

At two o'clock on the morning of August 13th the army of 
the confederates was called to arms, tents were left standing, 
baggage packed, and at three, marching through the darkness 



314 BLENHEIM. 

in parallel columns, infantry, cavalry and the light guns, they 
forded the Kessel, crowded through the narrow defile at Dapf- 
heini, and, just as day began to break, they came in sight of the 
advanced posts of the French, who fell back before them. A 
slight haze had settled on the valley. The French pickets 
scurrying back to the Nebel were severely rebuked by the gen- 
erals, who were aroused by their report. France had made up 
her mind that the instant the confederates heard of her army 
advancing down the Danube they would fall back on Nordlingen. 
Marshal Tallard would not believe it possible that they could 
have the temerity to cnme forward and meet him. It could be 
nothing but a scouting party of cavalry, said he ; but at seven 
o'clock the fog lifted, and there, before his astonished eyes, was 
the army of Marlborough already deploying on the high ground 
northeast of the Nebel, and the columns of Prince Eugene march- 
ing up the narrow valley of the little stream and forming a con- 
tinuation of the line. Instantly the Frenchman realized his 
mistake; the trumpets rang out the assembly; signal guns called 
in his foragers ; the men sprang to arms, and with great spirit 
and eagerness the battalions marched out before their camps, 
taking part in the hastily determined lines of battle. The ad- 
vance guards at the same moment setting fire to the little ham^ 
lets of Berghausen, Schwenenbach and Weilheim over on the 
eastern bank, hastened back to join the main body. 

Our place as observers will be with Marlborough over on the 
other side, but let us first note the formation of the French line, 
which, in some excitement and confusion, is going on before our 
eyes. Tallard thought those marshy shores between Ober- 
glauh and the mills a sufficient obstacle last night and has had 
no time to examine them since, but he has spent the night in 
Blenheim, and that at least is strongly palisaded, loopholed and 
prepared for vigorous defence; and now, just because they think 

Note. — It seems best to adopt the verbiage of Archdeacon Coxe, whose completa 
history of Marlborough is regarded as authority second to none. Tlie army of 
France and Bavaria is by him called that of " the alhes." The army of England, 
Holland, Hanover, Denmark, Savoy, Austria, etc. — that commanded by Marl, 
borough and Eugene — is spoken of as "the confederates." 



CAREFUL PREPARATIONS. 315 

it impossible for the English to charge across the stream, both 
wings of the French army form with the cavalry towards the 
grand centre and the infantry on the flanks. Blenheim, Ober- 
glauh and Lutzingen are bristling with musketeers, but the mile 
between the inner flanks of the infantry is taken up by two lines 
of squadrons of French horse, an odd and hitherto untried ar- 
rangement. But Marshal Tallard is a man in whom the soldiers 
have every confidence. He is rapidly riding from point to point 
giving personal supervision to every detail. First he dismounts 
a brigade of dragoons and forms them on his extreme right, 
between Blenheim and the Danube, behind a lot of wagons. 
The village itself he fairly crams with his infantry; nearly lO,- 
ooo footmen are packed within its loopholed walls and garden 
hedges, and a strong reserve stands ready behind the little brook 
they call the Meulweyer, that rises back of the village and runs 
into the Danube. The mills down on the Nebel suddenly burst 
into flame as the field-batteries come trotting to the front, and 
it is evident that the Frenchmen do not propose so much to 
prevent the crossing of the Nebel, as to hammer the English 
when they get across. Blenheim itself is a most defensible 
point, and here General de Clerambault, as gallant a soldier as 
France can show, is assigned to the command, with orders to 
hold it to the last extremity. 

To the left of Blenheim are the cavalry. Eight squadrons of 
gens-d'armes nearest the right and from there — way over to 
Oberglauh, across the highway — there are some fifty squadrons 
in the two lines. Back of Oberglauh are the footmen of Marshal 
Marsin, the brigades of Champagne and Bourbonnois, and a third 
brigade, fellows who are fighting far from home, whose own 
fortunes were wrecked at the battle of the Boyne not so very 
long before, and who have taken service with the French since 
they had nowhere else to go. They, the Irishmen, are to win 
glory to-day, and, ere long, immortal reputation at Fontenoy. 
Beyond Oberglauh, and well up the valley of the Nebel, the lines 
of horse and foot extend — the Bavarians being on the extreme 
left among the wooded hills in front of Lutzingen, and behind 
the entire line strong reserves take post. Generally, the French 



Si 6 BLENHEIM, 

and Bavarians may be said to form two strong lines, well out in 
front of tlieir camp; and in front of all, close to the low bluffs 
overhanging the Nebel, the field-batteries of eight and twenty- 
four pounders are already unlimbered and ready for work. 

In such a position, with such a tried army, and with the ad- 
vantage in numbers, well may Marshal Tallard feel confidence. 

Now let us cross the Nebel, get well over to the height in front 
of the bridge along which the highway is conducted, and from 
there survey the entire field and watch the entire battle, for, 
once past that height, the English will never be driven back. 
The Nebel lies at its foot. English field-batteries are already 
unlimbering upon it ; the lines of cavalry and infantry are de- 
ploying behind it ; but here is the point of all others from which 
to see the combat ; here in a few moments will be Marlborough 
himself Just now he is among those little stone-houses to the 
north, the hamlet of Wolperstetten, eagerly talking with Prince 
Eugene, while the troops of the latter are still filing through 
on their way to the extreme right. Here, facing about, towards 
the Nebel and the French, the field lies before us. There to 
our left front, a mile away towards the Danube, is Blenheim, a 
citadel now. Here, directly in front, is the highway-bridge 
across the Nebel. There to the right front is Oberglauh and 
Marsin's stronghold. Beyond that, backed by the woody crests, 
Lutzingen and the Bavarians. Every foot of the opposite bank 
is occupied by the compact army of the French. 

Now for the English lines. On our extreme left, down to- 
wards the Danube, is the division of Lord Cutts — four lines of 
horse and two of foot. He is well forward, almost within mus- 
ket range of Blenheim, and close to the east bank of the Nebel. 
Next to him, stretching way across the rising ground on which 
we stand, across the highway and up the valley towards Prince 
Eugene, in two slender lines some hundred yards apart, are the 
infantry battalions of the English centre, and bctzvcen these lines, 
a third long line of closed squadrons of cavalry. It is unusual 
to form cavalry in this way with footmen in front and rear, but 
the crossing of the stream is already a problem on which Lord 
Marlborough has been studying ; officers have been forward to 



"LET HIM ATTACK AT ONCE." 317 

sound it; cavalry sent to the hills to cut bundles of saplings 
and tie them into " fascines " for temporary use in fording; and 
engineer officers with pontoons have already got to work at 
different points between the hamlet of Unterglauh and the 
burning mills. Marlborough means to cross the stream and 
assault an army in position. He is only waiting for Prince 
Eugene. 

Just at eight o'clock the guns of the French open a furious 
cannonade on the forming troops of Marlborough, and the bat- 
teries of the latter answer at once. The battle of Blenheim for 
some hours is destined to be an artillery combat. Prince Eu- 
gene is having unexpected difficulty up there in the gorge, and 
cannot get his men into position to suit him. While waiting for 
the signal, religious services are conducted at the head of each 
regiment, and, when they are over, the army rests on its arms. 
It has been arranged between the two generals that their attack 
shall be simultaneous, and that Eugene shall extend his lines 
sufficiently far up the gorge of the Nebel to overlap the extreme 
left of the French army (there held mainly by Bavarians), and 
that he shall endeavor to gain the heights and " turn " that 
flank. But the prince has found the heights north of Lutzingen 
already occupied by a strong force, and this compels him to 
extend his line farther up the gorge than was expected; and 
then, to keep up his connection with Marlborough, he has to 
bring his reserve into the front rank. Now his ranks extend 
far out of sight up the wooded ravine beyond Eichberg, but 
he is ready at last. 

Just at twelve o'clock, staff-officers come galloping up the 
slope, and, saluting Lord Marlborough, report that Prince Eu- 
gene is in position. " Let him attack at once, then," are the 
brief instructions as the duke mounts his horse and turns down 
the slope towards his left. " Order Lord Cutts to assault Blen- 
heim," is the next command, and under the eye of the chief the 
four lines of infantry on the left sweep down towards the mills, 
and in thundering uproar the guns of Blenheim open upon them 
with grape-shot. Rowe's brigade of English leads. Behind 
him come the Hessians, then Ferguson's battalions of foot, and 



318 BLtNHElM. 

then the Hanoverian brigade. Cutts' cavalry, consisting of Ross' 
dragoons and the hght troopers of General Wood, remain for a 
moment to watch the success of the infantry crossing before they 
are sent in. Meantime Lord Marlborough orders forward every 
available gun, and personally superintends the opening of their 
fire. Now the infantry swarm down upon the burning mills and 
struggle across the Nebel. Foremost rides General Rowe, who 
rapidly forms and aligns his men on the western bank prepara- 
tory to leading them forward to the assault. To the English 
foot belongs the honor of the first crossing of the Nebel. 

Swampy as is the ground along the little stream, they struggle 
through: for many, led by eager young officers, v/ill not wait to 
crowd over the pontoon bridge. Blenheim stands back on ris- 
ing ground, and there is a regular bluff close to the water's 
edge, under shelter of which the grapeshot of the batteries can- 
not reach them, and here the brigade of Rowe, all Britons, as 
we have noticed, forms and aligns its ranks preparatory to breast- 
ing the slope and charging up to the palisades and walls of the 
village. It will take at least five minutes even for their ener- 
getic chief to get that little brigade into shape ; so, while the 
Hessians are crossing behind him, and Ferguson's brigade is 
occupying the mills, let us take one good look over the field. 
Ten minutes more it will be obscured by powder smoke. 

Here on our knoll Lord Marlborough has again taken his 
station with his staff. It overlooks the valley of the Nebel, and 
here, if anywhere, the movements of the troops can be distinctly 
seen. The batteries are hammering away at one another, and 
occasionally the shot pass uncomfortably close to the com- 
mander-in-chief. But a moment ago one twenty-four pounder 
ploughed the ground between his horse's legs and covered him 
with dust and dirt, but could not induce him to quit the position. 
Looking over to the French side of the Nebel, we see what ap- 
pears to be two continuous lines of cavalry stretching from 
Blenheim to Oberglauh — over a mile and a half of horsemen. 
Back of them are the tents of their late encampment. In front 
of them are the batteries; two are at Blenheim, blazing away 
with grape at the men of Lord Cutts' division still crossing at 



MARLBOROUGH'S MISTAKEN SUPPOSITION. 319 

the mills ; another, close to the high-road, is sending its conpli- 
ments across the Nebel at the very knoll on which we are stand- 
ing; while west of it, three more are posted along the bluff 
firing apparently at the batteries we have placed in position near 
Unterglauh and Weilheim — these little villages from which the 
flames are still rising off here to our right hand. We wonder 
where Tallard has posted all his infantry, and well we may. Not 
a man, from the Duke of Marlborough down to the drummers, 
imagines that nearly lO.OOO footmen are in and around the walls 
of that village on our left. Off to the west, at Oberglauh, we 
can see strong masses of musketeers around the stone walls and 
even on the slopes in front, and, in two lines, a division at least 
stands behind it. Somewhere there is that Irish brigade of 
which so much has been heard, and so much more is to be 
heard before we get through with this day's work. There be. 
yond Oberglauh is another strong division of foot, and there is 
no telling how many that old soldier Marsin has planted in the 
village itself Beyond them, some three miles away from us, 
we can see more lines of cavalry drawn up by squadrons, in 
front of Lutzingen, where the Elector of Bavaria makes his 
head-quarters ; and farther still, way up in those wooded slopes, 
dense bodies of infantry. If that position can be flanked, it must 
be by a bigger army than Lord Marlborough can muster to- 
day. He is right — it must be attacked along the whole line, and 
pluck and discipline must win. He is wrong only in one sup- 
position : that Blenheim is held by a detachment. He has had 
pontoons thrown over the Nebel : one in front of the village ; 
two here between Unterglauh and the highway just to our right; 
two more up there just beyond Unterglauh ; and he means to ad- 
vance the whole line as soon as Rowe and Cutts get to work 
down there on the left. They are his fighting generals, and 
occupy subordinate positions, in reality, to men who are their 
inferiors in military merit. 

We have come to that stage in European military history 
when princes and dukes are intrusted with important com- 
mands in the field simply through the favor of their sovereign, 
while better men do their manoeuvring, planning and fighting. 
21 



320 BLENHEIM. 

I 

These magnates are the persons of consequence named in the 
despatches, and to them the honors pf the victory are ofttimes 
attributed. It cannot be said that they do not fearlessly share 
the dangers and exposure of the battle-field, but it must be ad- 
mitted that many a high-born personage appears on the roster 
of Blenheim who is more in the way than anything else. The 
combined armies of Marlborough and Eugene do not exceed 
53,000 men, and to lead them we have seven generals, thirteen 
lieutenant-generals, twenty-one major-generals, and eighteen 
brigadiers, more than enough with the two commanders to 
handle an army ten times its size. Fortunately a great many 
are merely honorary positions, and Lord Marlborough has so 
arranged his army that his Englishmen are mainly down to- 
wards the left where the hardest fighting must be ; while to the 
Hanoverians and Dutch he assigns his own right, the centre of 
the combined line. In this way, too. Prince Eugene seems to 
have posted his best fighters — the Danes and Prussians — on his 
right, while his cavalry extended thence towards the centre. 
It is evident that the flanks are to begin the attack in force. 

It is now just one o'clock. The thunder of the cannon has 
thus far monopolized the noise of battle. Now comes a distant 
sound, a rattle of musketry from our extreme right. Far up 
there in the gorge Eugene has begun his attack. Now for the 
assault on Blenheim. Every man grasping " Brown Bess," as in 
the days of good Queen Anne the English soldier called his 
musket, the men of Rowe's brigade scramble up the bluff; then, 
reaching the sloping ground above, find themselves fairly in 
sight of the palisaded walls of Blenheim. Let us watch them. 
Already the Hessian brigade has formed in their .stead on the 
flats, and Ferguson is crossing his men. Our interest centres in 
that slender line now marching sturdily up towards the village. 
Never halting to fire, never responding to the discharges of the 
battery, they trudge fearlessly on. They are way within muskets 
shot of the hedges and walls, yet not a trigger is pulled. Can 
it be possible that the French mean to back out of Blenheim ? 
Impossible. The line is almost at the palisade ; the general, 
riding out in front, drives his sword into the wooden post at the 



THE BRITISH LINE RECOILS. 32l 

first gateway; then, with one explosion, the walls, roofs, towers, 
windows of Blenheim blaze with flame. Waiting until the Eng- 
lish brigade is within thirty paces, the French infantry drives 
in a merciless, a death-dealing fire, and Lord Marlborough sees 
in an instant that instead of a detachment, a whole division is 
there. Instantly he orders forward his entire line. 

But at the palisades General Rowe falls mortally wounded; 
his officers, attempting to carry off his body, are themselves shot 
down and killed ; in five minutes one-third of the brigade lie 
dead in their tracks, and then with much dismay, but still keep- 
ing their front, the British recoil. Then, concealed by the smoke 
and noise of the batteries, three squadrons of French gens- 
d'armes rush down upon the right flank. The little brigade, 
leaderless, amazed, half-gone, falls slowly back, and this new as- 
sault throws them into confusion. The Hessian line rushes up 
to their succor, and the French cavalry have to turn, and General 
Lumley, here right behind the knoll, sends forward five squad- 
rons of horsemen to punish those gens-d'armes. These fellows 
are English cavalrymen. Prince Eugene only two months agone 
pronounced them the finest in Europe, and they go down the 
slopes, through the marshy Nebel, and up the other bank as 
though war were a delight. Halting but an instant on the other 
shore they draw sabre, and despite the guns, despite the galling 
musketry fire from the walls of the village, they charge squarely 
up the slope through the first line of French horsemen, through 
the second, the brigade of General Tilly ; then, nearly surrounded 
and cut off, they have to charge back and once more reform 
down by the Nebel under shelter of the Hessian brigade. 

Now Ferguson and Hulsen have got their brigades across, 
and the enemy fearing to lose his battery, calls the twenty-four 
pounders within the shelter of the walls. Lord Cutts' entire 
infantry sweeps forward, but a withering fire meets them from 
every inch of the walls. Blenheim still holds a superior force 
and the attack is madness. Twice he rallies his lines to the 
assault, but they are driven back with terrible loss, and at two 
in the afternoon the shattered infantry division of Lord Cutts is 
seeking shelter under the bluff southwest of the Nebel. Lord 



322 BLENHEIM. 

Marlborough, eagerly watching the attack from our position 
here on the knoll, plainly sees that he has sustained a sad re- 
verse. But he never loses heart, never changes his cheery, 
confident manner. Ordering Lord Cutts to hang on to the 
slopes, and, by keeping up a semblance of attack, engage the 
entire attention of the enemy in Blenheim, he himself conducts 
the movement which is, he hopes, to pierce the enemy's centre. 

Marching down in closed columns to the Nebel, the infantry 
of the first line has already crossed and begun to deploy on the 
•opposite shore. The guns rake them savagely with grape, but 
they do not falter. They secure their foothold opposite the 
enemy's centre and do not mean to yield it. After them come 
the cavalry of General Churchill's command, some over the 
pontoon bridges, some through the stream, and, before they 
can get out on the open ground in front of tlie infantry, down at 
headlong charge comes Turlauben's entire division of horsemen 
of the French first line. They have every advantage, and our 
horsemen are driven back — some as far as the Nebel ; but 
Churchill's infantry has knelt behind the low hedge across the 
field, and their musketry fire soon drives Turlauben's troopers 
to cover; while from our second line, Bothmar's dragoon brigade 
sweeps forward in capital order and charges home on the retiring 
squadrons of the French, driving and following them beyond the 
Maulweyer; and here in turn our troopers are met by over- 
whelming numbers and forced to fall back. It is impossible to 
tell how matters will result here on our left and centre. Thus 
far the French have the best of it. 

But meanwhile the Duke of Marlborough has been steadily 
sending all his army across the stream, and now, at three o'clock, 
General Lumley has reformed and straightened out our squad- 
rons in front of the low bluffs west of Blenheim, and they are in 
readiness to act with renewed spirit. Meantime, too, Lieutenant- 
General Hompesch with the Dutch cavalry, and the Duke of 
Wurtemberg with the Danes and Hanoverians have managed to 
scramble over the boggy banks up towards Oberglauh, and now 
they are in line, the infantry closely following them. Marshal 
Marsin sends a few old battalions from his centre back of Ober- 



THE ADVANTAGE STILL WITH THE ALLIES. 323 

glauh. They come steadily forward until at the crest, drive a 
few volleys into the Dutch and Danish cavalry ; then comes a 
charge of French dragoons, and back go the Dutchmen. Marl- 
borough has crossed most of his army, but, what has he gained? 
Nothing, apparently, but a position in which he can be ham- 
mered worse than when on the northeastern bank of the Nebel, 
and still there comes no good news from Prince Eugene on the 
west. Many a man would have lost his nerve at this juncture, 
and the Duke of Marlborough might readily have been excused 
had he seen fit to withdraw his troops and fall back to the line 
of the Kessel, where his tents were still standing, but his is not 
the stuff that gives up easily. 

For some time the Prince of Holstein Beck has been can- 
nonading Oberglauh from that knoll over there near burning 
Weilheim. Now he limbers up his battery, and with eleven 
battalions moves down to the stream and forms on the bank be- 
low the position of Marsin's right ; begins to form rather, for 
before the columns are fairly across they are attacked by a 
strong division of infantry, and with that division is the famous 
Irish brigade. These fellows had hoped to be pitted against 
the British, but are quite ready to fight anything that comes in 
their way, and it is a black day for Holstein Beck and his Hano- 
verians. Lord Marlborough, watching the move across the 
Nebel, sees the sudden advance of Marsin's infantry and seems 
to have a premonition of what is coming, for instantly he gal- 
lops off towards Weilheim. Before he can get there it is all 
over with Holstein Beck ; the Irish brigade have sprung upon 
his leading lines like starving tigers on their prey. Two bat- 
talions are swept out of existence, and, leaving their princely 
leader mortally wounded under the slopes of Oberglauh, the 
shattered division is in full retreat across the stream, when Marl- 
borough himself appears in their midst. First he checks their 
wild and disorderly flight and faces them about ; then he hurries 
the brigade of Bernsdorf over from Weilheim and posts it facing 
Oberglauh. Then, cheering on his cavalry, he sends in all the 
squadrons of Imperialists to charge the flanks of the now baffled 
line. The Danes and Hanoverian horse are sent around to che 



324 BLENHEIM. 

Other (western) flank, and by their impetuous rush, and the now 
steady valor of the German infantry, the battle is restored. 
Marsin's infantry are driven backward up the slope, Irish and 
all, and forced to seek shelter behind the walls of Oberglauh. 
For fifteen minutes it looked as though all was over with our 
right centre. Nozu all is triumph again, but it took all the 
magnetic power of Marlborough to effect it. He alone was 
capable of restoring the battle. 

It is three o'clock as the duke gallops back to the high-road, 
sending Lord Tunbridge to announce to Prince Eugene that his 
entire force is now across the Nebel and about to assault the 
French centre. He also eagerly inquires how the battle is going 
on the right. Eugene has been having a vividly exciting but 
most unsatisfactory combat. The woods are thick, the ravines 
deep and rugged, and charges and countercharges have been 
going on for two hours. His troops are well-nigh exhausted 
and dispirited, for they have gained little or nothing. It seems 
impossible to drive those dogged Bavarians out of their covert 
among the rocks. The cavalry are unable to act, yet are severe 
sufferers from the grape of the enemy's battery. The artillery, 
after huge exertions, succeed in lugging their guns up the slopes 
and open fire on the Bavarians, but the latter are so sheltered that 
they cling to their ground. In vain Prince Eugene, the Prince 
of Anhalt and the elector himself ride among, and strive to en- 
courage their men ; a new charge is ordered, but, though the 
lines obey and advance, it is spiritless and weak ; once more they 
reel and are about to recoil, when Prince Eugene, braving al- 
most certain death, spurs out to the front, cheering and waving 
his sword, and some devoted soldiers follow him. The example 
is not thrown away ; officers leap in front of the wavering ranks 
and call to their men to follow them, and now at last they 
grapple hand-to-hand with the Bavarians, and here the Bavarians 
get the worst of it. After a short, sharp, bloody struggle, they 
stagger from their stronghold among the rocks and trees and 
go sullenly backward down the ravine toward Lutzingen. "Now 
bring up those guns and plant them here," is the exultant order, 
for, the heights above the village once gained, a raking fire can 



LUTZINGEN WON. 325 

be poured along the enemy's lines and into the walls of Lutz- 
ingen. Eugene has turned the allied left. The Bavarians are 
falling back — yes, behind Lutzingen now ; and they have left 
some of their own guns on the heights too. Another moment 
and — look ! the rocky crest is vomiting flame and smoke, and 
the batteries of Eugene are hurling iron missiles down the valley. 
Now, Bavaria! the sooner you get out of it the better. The 
allied left comes drifting back, doubling up on the lines of Mar- 
sin behind Oberglauh. Lutzingen is won. 

Yet it would not, could not have been lost to the Bavarians 
had Marsin detached a few battalions from his left, and sent them 
up to support the elector. Why did he fail ? For four mortal 
hours the elector has held the heights against the combined 
attacks of Eugene and Anhalt, and not until five o'clock does he 
loosen his grasp on the strong position he has so doggedly held. 
Marsin ought to have aided him, but Marsin dare not send a 
man. Here, right along the slopes of the Nebel, almost under 
his nose, stretching from Oberglauh to Blenheim, but partially 
sheltered by the rise of the ground, the cavalry of Britain and 
the confederates have been coolly forming in t^vo lines, backed 
by heavy masses of infantry, and Marsin dare not move ; he 
does not know how soon he may need every man to repel the 
grand assault that is evidently coming. So too with Tallard. 
Throughout the armies of France and Bavaria there is a whole- 
some dread of the British cavalry, and Marlborough knows well 
how to use it. Leaving their colleague at Lutzingen to shift 
for himself, these two generals, Tallard and Marsin, devote all 
their energies to meeting the new move. Tallard marches 
strong battalions of infantry along his line, stationing them at 
intervals between the squadrons ; Marlborough (whose infantry 
thus far, since crossing the Nebel, have been drawn up with con- 
venient gaps through which the cavalry can retire if compelled 
to fall back) now sends forward some of the best footmen to 
crown the brow of the low hill towards the enemy, and having 
assigned them their positions, which they are ordered to hold 
against counter attack, he advances the entire line. In all " the 
pomp and circumstance of glorious war " the combined horse 



326 BLENHEIM. 

and foot of Britain and the confederates move slowly up the 
slopes. At the same instant Marlborough's cannons open over 
their heads at the French lines, and in another moment, the 
leading ranks come full into view of the enemy. Then begins 
a thunder of field-guns such as Blenheim has not yet heard. 
Two field-batteries are run up to the brow of the bluff between 
the squadrons and open rapidly on the French lines. 

And noV eight thousand horsemen are about to charge ten 
thousand, supported, too, by infantry. For a few moments the 
English guns and musketry pour rapid volleys into the opposing 
ranks, receiving heavy fire in return, but holding firmly to their 
ground. Then right and left along the slopes the trumpets 
ring out their stirring call, the sabres of fifty gallant squadrons 
flash in air, and with one mad cheer the troopers of England 
dash forward to the charge. In vain the French musketeers 
salute them with rapid, low-aimed volleys that empty many a 
saddle. On they go, and the gunners and footmen hold their 
breath and envy their mounted comrades the glory of that wild 
ride. Straight at Tallard's squadrons they drive. In they rush 
between the hurriedly forming squares ; and the French dra- 
goons appalled at the fury of the onset, fire their carbines in 
panicky haste, then dash spurs to their horses, wheel about and 
scatter for shelter, leaving nine squares of gallant musketeers 
to their fate. In vain Tallard rallies and faces westward a strong 
division of his horsemen, whose right now rests on Blenheim. 
The victorious riders after driving before them five thousand 
horsemen over into the valley of the little Brunnen, now wheel 
to their left, charge this new formed line, and scatter them like 
sheep over the banks and down into the morass and the Danube 
beyond. The centre is pierced. Tallard and Marsin are hurled 
apart. Blenheim is won, and the cavalry have won it. 

But it is only half-past five, and before the sun goes down 
there is a deal of hard fighting to be done. This last charge of 
horsemen has completely cut off the garrison of the town itself 
from the rest of the army. Tallard's wing is practically ruined. 
He himself, a small escort of cavalry and his staff have nar- 
rowly escaped being cut to pieces, and though witnesses of 



MARSHAL TALLARD A PRISONER. 327 

the slaughter and destruction of the thirty squadrons which so 
lately strove to reform, back of the tents and to the south of 
Blenheim, he and his immediate followers have managed to slip 
through to Sonderheim, a little hamlet just under the banks of 
the Danube. He has sent to Marsin imploring aid, but Marsin's 
right has been doubled up on his centre, and now this latter 
officer finds himself in a bad predicament. Directly in his front 
there is no longer any foe ; yet towards Lutzingen, to his left 
and rear, the troops of the Elector of Bavaria are crowding back 
upon him, and to his right his lines are being doubled up by the 
squadrons and foot of General Churchill. From the heights 
above Lutzingen, Prince Eugene has been a witness of the grand 
charge and victory of the Duke of Marlborough, and now he is 
straining every nerve to complete the work on the enemy's left. 
His losses have been severe, but he renews his efforts and sends 
his wearied men in to the attack of Lutzingen. It is speedily 
carried, and then the Bavarians fall back in disorder upon Mar- 
sin, who now sees no help for it. He, too, must retreat, but he 
forms his columns and falls back in capital order, while from the 
roofs and walls of Oberglauh and Lutzingen, columns of smoke 
and flame rise in air. The vanquished army is setting fire to 
everything in its retreat. Keeping close under the heights, 
though vehemently pursued by Eugene, the remnants of the 
elector's army and the well-handled columns of Marsin move 
steadily back towards the valley of the Brunnen. They are fre- 
quently charged by cavalry, but the gathering darkness favors 
their escape, and by eight o'clock they are clear of the field. 

But around Blenheim the battle still rages fiercely. Marshal 
Tallard had sent an officer earlier in the afternoon to order the 
troops within the village to file out and join him, but the order 
never reached de Clerambault, who was in command, and now, 
at six p. M., Tallard himself, with his staff, has been surrounded 
by dragoons in Sonderheim and is a prisoner of war, treated as 
a distinguished guest by Marlborough, and de Clerambault is 
drowned in the Danube with hundreds of unfortunate men who 
strove to swim across its rapid tide. The gallant Frenchmen 
holding Blenheim are without a commander, without orders, 



328 BLENHEIM. 

without hope, but they mean to fight. They have seen the com- 
plete demolition of the cavalry. They can plainly see the dis- 
tant retreat of Marsin. They are isolated, and will soon 
be sufrounded. An effort is made to cut their way through 
towards Hochstadt; but General Lumley with some of his 
battalions and that renowned regiment of dragoons, the Scots 
Greys, fiercely charge and repel the sortie. General Churchill 
extends his infantry completely around the stone hedges of the 
little town. Lord Orkney and General Ingoldsby lead their 
men in to the assault, but recoil before the heroic defence of the 
garrison, and, just as the sun goes down, further shedding of 
blood is obviated by the honorable surrender of the troops in 
the village. With the coming of darkness the field is completely 
won. 

Of the allies that had mustered nearly sixty thousand strong 
that bright morning, only twenty thousand were left upon the 
slopes back of Hochstadt, whither Marsin had led his men. 
Twelve thousand lay on the field dead or wounded, as many, 
more were prisoners, and all the artillery, all their tents and 
camp equipage, hundreds of colors and standards, the general- 
in-chief and twelve hundred officers of rank were united in the 
losses sustained by France and Bavaria. Five thousand killed 
and eight thousand wounded, summed up the casualties on the 
side of the confederates, but the fruits of their triumph were 
incalculable. Bloody and desperate as it had been, Blenheim 
was a glorious victory for England — brilliant, decisive, and of 
world-wide importance in its results. The power of Louis 
XIV. was broken. From that time forth he fought only on the 
defensive. The French were driven from the valley of the 
Danube. Ulm, Landau and Treves surrendered to the con- 
federates. Bavaria broke her alliance with France and humbly 
submitted to Austria, and the supremacy of British arms and 
valor was established throughout Europe. Marlborough and 
Prince Eugene became the renowned names of the century, and 
where they fought side by side, no power seemed able to with- 
stand them. 



RAMILIES. 




1706. 



Jo worthily describe these great battles and cam- 
paigns of Marlborough, a dozen books the 
size of this might well be written. It is neces- 
sary in the space to which we are limited, to 
make only the briefest allusion to some of his 
most brilliant deeds. Blenheim had rid all 
Germany east of the Rhine, of the French 
invaders. Lord Marlborough then turned his 
attention to affairs in Holland, and sent an army up the valley 
of the Moselle to confront the French under Marshal Villars, 
but diplomatic duties with which he was burdened, called him 
for a time, away from the head of the armies, and the sluggish- 
ness of the Dutch delayed his combinations. Sent to Vienna he 
was there created a prince of the empire as a reward for his 
heroic services ; but in 1706 he resumed the direction of mat- 
ters in the field, and on the 23d of May he again attacked and 
defeated a French army in position, winning the spirited battle 
of Ramilies. 

The army of France under Marshal Villeroy occupied in May 
a strong position between Brussels and Namur in mid Belgium. 
The river Dyle covered their front, and Namur on the Meuse, 
which defended their right, was strongly held and fortified. 
Marlborough hoped to surprise the fortress and secure it through 
the agency of one Pasquier, a resident of the city. If he succeeded, 
their line could no longer be held, as he had turned their right flank. 
If they detected his move in time to prevent it, they would be 
compelled to march out from their lines to meet him in front 

(329) 



330 RAMILIES. 

of the Dyle, and a battle in the open country was what he 
needed. 

Lord Marlborough entered upon this campaign in low spirits, 
for numerous harassing complications had occurred ; and though 
he counted on defeating the French, he feared that his Dutch 
allies were not to be thoroughly depended on, and he wanted to 
make the battle decisive. 

On the 1 2th of May, Lord Marlborough arrived at Maestricht 
on the Meuse, forty-five miles northeast of Namur. Here he 
found the Dutch troops awaiting him, but the English were yet 
in march to join. Fifty miles due west lay Brussels, and along 
the Dyle south of west and thirty-five miles away, lay the French 
army. Between the Dyle and the Meuse, in several small 
branches, the river Geete drained the country, flowing northward 
into the Dender. On the largest branch nearly due west of 
Maestricht and some twenty-five miles east of Brussels is the 
little town of Tirlemont. Namur is due south from Tirlemont 
and thirty miles away ; a good road joined them, and this road 
after crossing the river Mehaigne, passes northward through 
several little villages, among them Judoigne on the banks of the 
Geete, and Ramilies out in the open country between the head- 
waters of the Geete and the Mehaigne. 

Ordering his English troops to meet him there, Marlborough 
marched west towards Tirlemont ; and Villeroy took alarm at 
once. He was ordered even to risk a battle in the field with 
Marlborough, rather than let him swoop down upon Namur. 
He had learned, too, that the forces of the confederates were far 
from united, that the Hanoverians were not yet joined, that the 
Danish cavalry had not come at all, and that the English 
were delayed. He promptly recalled Marshal Marsin, who 
had been detached with a large force, and then did just what 
Marlborough hoped and prayed he would do — crossed the 
Dyle and came forward towards Tirlemont, as though to give 
him battle. 

On the 20th the English army reached the camp of Marlbor- 
ough. The Danes were confidently expected on the 22d. The 
forces then at the disposal of the English duke would be 123 



NETHERLANDS' DESTINIES tHE ISSUE. 33I 

squadrons of horse and 73 battalions of foot. The French had 
128 squadrons and 74 battalions, so that they were nearly evenly 
matched. In round numbers, Marlborough had about 60,000 
mixed troops, against 62,000, mostly Frenchmen. 

Now it began to look as though a decisive battle might be 
fought after all, and Marlborough's spirits rose high at the pros- 
pect. They had been fighting over this very ground the pre- 
vious summer, and he knew it well. 

Villeroy, crossing the west branch or Great Geete, moved 
down towards Judoigne ; and Marlborough, marching in eight 
columns by the left flank, passed around to the head-waters of 
the middle fork or Little Geete. It stormed during the night, 
and the infantry made slow progress ; but Lord Cadogan, who 
had been sent forward with 600 cavalry to reconnoitre, reached 
the uplands of Mierdorp at eight o'clock on the morning 
of May 23d, and from there plainly saw the French columns 
marching across the plateau of Mont St. Andre, five miles west, 
and heading for the Mehaigne, which has a branch running east 
just a couple of miles below Ramilies; and in Ramilies itself one 
of the branches of the Little Geete has its source. 

The battle that is to decide the fate of the Netherlands is soon 
to be fought right here, so it is well to look at the lay of the 
land. Mierdorp, where Cadogan catches his first glimpse of 
the enemy, is a little village on a ridge that runs north and south 
from Wasseige, on the Mehaigne, to Orp le Petit, at the forks 
of the Little Geete, a distance of five miles ; and along this ridge 
ran the old line of earth-works built by the French engineers, 
and demolished by Marlborough the previous year. The Me- 
haigne is bordered on the north by a gently sloping range of 
heights, under which, and close to the water's edge, lie in regular 
order from east to west a number of quiet little country ham- 
lets. Supposing ourselves here at Mierdorp, and facing west, we 
look out over a rolling plateau nearly five miles broad, and, on 
the side of the Mehaigne, five miles long. To our left, down 
under the bank and close to the stream, is Wasseige. Two miles 
farther west is Branson, then Boneffe, then Franquinay, then 
Tavier — all within four miles of us. Each has its little bridge 



832 RAMILIES. 

over the Mehaigne ; and from Tavier, around which there is a 
good deal of marshy ground, a road leads up northward over 
the farther end of the plateau, passes beyond the sources of the 
brooks that make up the Little Geete, and so on to Judoigne, 
just visible to the northwest eight miles away, and down in the 
valley of the Great Geete. The first village this cross-road 
strikes after climbing the bluff north of Tavier is that little ham- 
let we can see so plainly four miles away straight in front. That 
is Ramilies. 

Bordered by tall poplars, and parallel with the Mehaigne, the 
high-road runs along the top of the bluffs ; but except these 
trees, which stand like two long ranks of infantry against the 
southern sky, and two little coppices out here to the front, a 
couple of miles away, the plateau is bare of trees. From Rami- 
lies to the northeast, around to our right hand, sweeps a ravine 
that divides the plateau diagonally, and in that ravine trickles 
along the rivulet of the middle Geete. The ground sinks around 
'the north of Ramilies, and is marshy at the sources of this stream. 
Then a bold ridge rises from the marsh, juts out northeastward 
two miles or so, and back of that is another ravine. This ridge 
is simply a tongue of land stretching northeastward from the 
middle of the position of St. Andre, as the west end of the 
plateau is called ; but two important hamlets lie there on the 
ridge: one, just north of Ramilies and a mile and a half from it, 
is Offuz, at the base of the tongue ; the other, near our end of 
the tongue and between the two ravines, is Autre-Eglise — And- 
erkirk the Dutchmen call it. A line joining these four hamlets, 
Tavier, Ramilies, Offuz and Anderkirk, forms a great semi- 
circle, with the concavity towards us at Mierdorp, and the centre 
of the circle would be at that first coppice or grove two miles 
out there on the plateau. We stand on the highest ground in 
the neighborhood except one point. Off there to the west, close 
to the high-road and beyond Ramilies, is a high, conical hill, 
all by itself, and the ground slopes up to it around its base. 
They call it the Tomb of Ottomond. 

From where we stand, it looks as though an army in line of 
battle, could march with a front four miles long, square to the 



VILLEROY OVER-CONFIDENT. 33^ 

West through RamiHes, but it could not ; that ravine this side 
of the ridge of Autre-Eglise and Offuz is deep and marshy, and 
between Ramilies and the end of the ridge there are only three 
points where it can be safely traversed ; country roads are built 
across it from Offuz, Autre-Eglise and the very end itself Be- 
tween Ramilies and Tavier, to the south, the ground is high and 
unobstructed. 

Such is the battle-field on which Lord Marlborough looks out 
at ten o'clock on the morning of May 23, 1706, and the low fog 
lifting, shows him the army of France going into position over 
beyond the ravines on the position of St. Andre. Our end of 
the plateau is called Jandrinoeuil. From ten o'clock until one 
the army of the confederates is occupied in moving up into order 
of battle. In two long lines they now stretch across the plateau, 
facing west from the bank of the Little Geete on our right, down 
to Boneffe on the left. They have a front of nearly four miles, 
and are now two miles west of Mierdorp, where the baggage is 
left — what there is of it. Before we go forward to join them let 
us see what disposition Villeroy has made of his command. All 
four villages from Tavier to Autre-Eglise are swarming with in- 
fantry ; long lines of infantry extend along the ridge to Offuz ; 
others from Offuz across the low ground to Ramilies ; then be- 
tween Ramilies and the swamps of the Mehaigne, in two long 
lines of squadrons, with intervals, stand the entire horse of the 
French army; and the hedges and walls of Tavier, and the 
roadside and fields well out to Franquinay, are lined with 
skirmishers. 

The position is undoubtedly formidable, but Villeroy is over- 
confident or he would never have violated one of the first prin- 
ciples in selecting a defensive position. He has formed a deeply 
concave line, and if any part is heavily threatened he has to 
inarch reinforcements way around the arc while his opponent 
takes the shorter line across. Marlborough sees the error quick 
enough ; sees too that the point he wants to gain is that height 
of the Tomb of Ottomond beyond Ramilies. The experience 
of Blenheim has taught him the futility of attacking infantry in 
stone-walled villages, and he notes with delight that only cavalry 



334 RAMILIES. 

are drawn up across the high ground parallel with the main 
road. His main attack is instantly determined to be against the 
French right, between Ramilies and the river, but he intends to 
make Villeroy believe the opposite. 

To this end he advances his line until the infantry has made 
almost a half wheel to the right, and is now facing and threaten- 
ing Offuz, Autre-Eglise and the ridge between them. Villeroy 
instantly orders a strong division of infantry from Ramilies to 
reinforce his left, and with commendable rapidity it marches the 
mile of distance to Offuz, passes around behind it and soon files 
out on the ridge behind the lines there stationed. This accom- 
plished to the complete satisfaction of Marlborough, and while 
Villeroy is now drawing upon his extreme right for footmen to 
replace those who were thus sent from the centre, an order is 
suddenly given to the two lines of English and German infantry 
to face about and march back to the ridge on which they de- 
ployed originally. They obey, and when the leading one has 
passed over that ridge and is out of sight of the enemy's lines, 
the rearmost rank halts and faces to the front again on the crest, 
while, behind the ridge, the second line marches rapidly over 
towards the high-road where Marlborough is forming his men 
for a grand attack. Even if discovered, it is now too late for 
Villeroy to remedy matters. He has to march way around his 
own line. 

And now at half-past one the attack begins. Marlborough's 
batteries open from our side of the first ravine upon the three 
villages, and the guns of the allies (French and Spanish) respond 
with spirit. The Dutch guards, with two light guns, oblique 
down the slope towards the Mehaigne to drive the skirmishers 
back from Franquinay and to assault Tavier, while General 
Schultz, with twelve battalions, surrounds the walls and hedges 
of Ramilies. 

Prince Eugene is away on other duty, and Marlborough has 
not with him his great colleague. , He has instead a brave old 
soldier and a devoted officer in Marshal Overkirk, who now 
leads forward the cavalry in three deep lines, centre resting on 
the high-road, to attack the one hundred squadrons drawn up 




RA>riLLIE>. 



ATTACK BY LORD CLAEES IRISH EEGIMEXT IN' THE 
FREXCF SERVICE. (R. Caton Woodville.) 



DUTCH AND GERMAN CAVALRY IN CONFUSION. 335 

across the ground between him and tlie Tomb of Ottomond. 
^larlborough has determined to win that height, for, from it, he 
can enfilade tlie whole position of Mont St. Andre. 

x\nd now as the Dutch guards sweep along under the bluffs 
towards Tavier, dri\-ing in the skirmishers, Villeroy sees that he 
has been misled. The main attack is coming on his right after 
all. He must hold Tavier at all hazards or these fellows will 
get it and then takfe him in flank. His spare infantrj- is now too 
far away, but over there on the ridge beyond the Ottomond . 
height are fourteen squadrons of dragoons. He quickly sends 
orders to them to dismount ; leave their horses there with a small 
guard and make their way across tlie swampy ground into Tavier. 
Two regiments of infantry at the same time hurry down to 
support them. But it is too late. Before they can reach the 
walls the Dutch have driven out the little garrison, and then 
twenty-five squadrons of Danish horse come sweeping down 
the slopes, out to the front, and in a few moments have sabred 
the dismounted dragoons or driven them into the river. Then 
they turn on the Swiss infantrj- and hack them to pieces. Tavier 
is taken almost witliout a struggle, and its would-be rein- 
forcements annihilated. 

Even while this brilliant piece of work is going on, Overkirk 
receives orders to charge, cmd now with all the old enthusiasm 
of Blenheim, but unfortunately without the English dragoons in 
the lead, a gallant array of squadrons rides down upon the 
French. The lines crash together, and the French front line is 
overturned; but the second charges in piompt and spirited form 
upon the Dutch and German horse, tlirows them into confu- 
sion, and then drives them back upon their supports. The grand 
cavalr)' attack is a failure so far, and now, while General Schultz 
is hammering away at the walls of Ramilies with his guns and 
musketr}% Lord ^Marlborough himself, seeing tlie confusion of 
his caxalry, goes tearing out tliere with seventeen squadrons 
from the right of our line. They are needed, for our people are 
being driven back, and the Bavarian cuirassiers of the French 
army are now charging from behind Ramilies. These Marlbor- 
ough himself meets witli his squadrons, drives them back, and 
22 



336 RAMILIES. 

now for half an hou* a vehement and rattling sword-fight goes 
on, the duke himself being among the foremost ranks, striving 
to restore order and spirit among the too easily broken cavalry. 
He is speedily recognized by the French dragoons, a dash is 
made to capture him, he is surrounded, and only escapes by 
leaping his horse into a ditch where he is hurled to the ground 
An aide-de-camp supplies him with his own horse, and Colonel 
Bingfield, while holding his stirrup, is shot dead; but the duke 
escapes, and at this moment twenty fresh squadrons, Britons 
these, come dashing across the plateau from the right, and ride 
in against the left of the enemy's line, while the Danish dragoons 
under the Duke of Wirtemberg, who have already done such 
capital service down in the valley of the Mehaigne, once more 
ride in, facing the French right. The Dutch dragoons make a 
grand rally and charge, and this time weight is against the 
French horse. Both lines go reeling back, and despite all efforts 
of Villeroy, once started, there is no stopping them ; for Marlbor- 
ough's cavalry, British, Dutch, Danish and Hanoverian, thunder 
at their heels. Away they go. The whole plateau of Mont St. 
Andre, back of Ramilies, is one disorderly mass of fugitives. 
Away they go like sheep, past Geest, past Offuz, and out along 
the country roads to the north, now choked with the baggage 
trains. Marlborough promptly seizes the height of Ottomond, the 
object of his great attack, then turns to aid Schultz at the walls of 
Ramilies. It is defended by the Marquis de Maffei, who is 
fighting valiantly, but shot and shell are doing desperate work. 
The Swiss and Bavarian infantry who are with him are worn 
and wavering. The battle has lasted three hours. It is now 
nearly five o'clock, when Schultz, heavily reinforced, makes his 
final dash and forces the garrison out upon the open plain to the 
rear. Here the Swiss and Bavarians are sabred by the cavalry, 
and Maffei is taken prisoner. The French guards have man- 
aged to march off towards Offuz and escape, but Ramilies is 
taken. 

And now Marlborough turns the divisions of Schultz, rein- 
forced by General Wood, against Offuz, while he, with the cav- 
alry, sweeps northward along the plateau to prevent all possi- 



UNERRING JUDGMENT OF MARLBOROUGH. 337 

bility of a rally. It is low swampy ground between Ramilies 
and the foot of the ridge, but the troops are wild with victory 
now and plunge through with absolute merriment, breast the 
slopes at Offuz and rush pell-mell through the enclosures and 
over the ridge only to find the French gone. The entire French 
left has abandoned the ridge. Churchill, Mordaunt, Lumley, 
Hay and Ross, with their foot and horse, rush over the inter- 
vening valley to the assault of Autre-Eglise at the same time 
and with the same result. The dragoons press on in pursuit, 
overtake the celebrated regiment du Roi back of Offuz and com- 
pel its surrender. Out by the farm of Chantrain, way to the 
northwest, the Spanish and Bavarian horse-guards have halted 
and are reformed for a countercharge, but they are dashed upon 
by Wood and Wyndham, and that is the last stand of the French 
army. At the close of day all that is left of it is in disorderly 
flight, and all night long— at least until two in the morning— the 
army of Marlborough streams northward through Judoigne in 
pursuit. The main army finally halts at Meldert, nearly fifteen 
miles away, and the victory of Ramilies is over. 

It was a most surprising, yet most triumphant, victory, and 
was won first by the skillful mancEuvres of the duke, and second 
by his personal and high soldierly bearing on the field. He 
seemed to be everywhere at once. His example was electric ; 
his judgment unerring. Overkirk, too, displayed signal zeal and 
ability, but the victor greatly missed Eugene. 

Most of the French guns, all their baggage, eighty colors and 
standards and great quantities of small arms and equipments 
fell into the hands of the victors, and the losses of the French 
m killed, wounded and prisoners were 13,000, among them sev- 
eral officers of high rank. On the other hand, the army of the 
confederates lost the Prince of Hesse Cassel and 81 officers 
killed and 283 wounded, while of the rank and file 1,066 were 
killed and 2,567 wounded. 

The news was received like that of Blenheim, with the greatest 
exultation in England. The queen again went to the cathedral 
of St. Paul's in great state to render solemn thanks for the vic- 
tory of her arms. Another national thanksgiving was proclaimed 







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OUDENARDE. 




1708. 

I UT Louis XIV. had enjoyed unlimited power and 
triumph so many years of his life — was so absolute 
a monarch, that he could not believe himself 
whipped by the confederates. Experience was to 
teach him a bitter lesson. Soon after the disaster 
of Ramilies his grandson, Philip V., came reeling 
back into France from Spain, where Lord Peter- 
borough had almost demolished his army in front 
of Barcelona. The Spanish Netherlands were gone. 
Spain itself was almost crushed. Then Antwerp and Ostend 
«ell before Marlborough. It seemed as though Louis XIV. 
were tottering on his throne. 

But dissensions among the confederates in the Low Countries, 
intrigues and cabals at home, and his renewed employment in 
settling important diplomatic affairs, checked Lord Marlborough 
at the moment when he could and would have carried the war 
into France. Over a year was lost in senseless hesitation and 
delay, for which he was in no way responsible. The French re- 
organized their armies on the northeastern frontier, and in the 
spring of 1708 Marlborough and Eugene, once more united, 
were called upon to meet a formidable force of French bent on 
the recapture of the lost cities of Belgium. Their plan was a 
good one. They were afraid to meet the army of Marlborough 
on even terms in the field, but had bethought themselves of a 
feasible project for robbing him of all the fruits of his conquests 
of 1706. All the cities of the Netherlands were disgusted with 
the oppressions of the Dutch, their new masters, and the 
people were only too ready to co-operate with the French. It 



340 OUDENARDE. 

was resolved therefore to surprise the citadels of Bruges and 
^.jhent, and to capture Oudenarde, an important fortified town 
on the Scheldt, about twenty-eight miles southwest from Ghent. 
So far as Bruges and Ghent were concerned the plan worked to 
a charm. Both surrendered without a shot, for the garrisons 
were Flemings and Walloons, or Dutch ; and Marlborough was 
far in the interior, beyond Brussels, near the old field of Rami- 
lies, waiting for Eugene who was coming from Maestricht. 

The French, on July 9th, laid siege to Oudenarde, then held 
by General Chanclos, and, to "cover the siege" and delay Marl- 
borough's move to the rescue, they attempted to seize the left 
bank of the river Dender and hold it against his crossing. 

But Marlborough was quicker than they. Eugene had gal- 
loped forward to join him, and together they crossed the Dender 
and the French recoiled behind Oudenarde and the Scheldt. 

All around Oudenarde the country lies in low, gentle undu- 
lations. The valley is wide ; the ground is thoroughly culti- 
vated ; corn on the uplands ; flax, clover, buckwheat and peas on 
the lower. Only on the few steep acclivities are woods to be 
found. Over towards Courtray to the west, and up the Scheldt 
towards the frontiers of France, there are or were forests, but 
around Oudenarde it was nearly all open. Low hedges divided 
the fields but there was nothing to impede the march of troops, 
even of artillery, and, by a strange contradiction, artillery was 
the one thing lacking in the sharp battle which took place at 
this point. Oudenarde was an infantry and cavalry fight The 
river runs about northeast through the queer old Dutch town, 
then sweeps around towards the north. One or two castles and 
an old abbey were, with those inevitable windmills, the features 
of the rather uninteresting scenery. Marshes bounded both sides 
of the stream, but north of Oudenarde the ground rose ; two 
little streams cut through the rise and reached the Scheldt a 
mile or so northeast of the town, and a larger creek, flowing 
nearly east, and bounded north and south by sloping banks, in- 
tersected this low plateau three miles north of the town. It was 
called the Norken, and between this stream and the walls of the 
city the battle of Oudenarde took place. 



THE FRENCH OUT-MANCEUVRED. 341 

The French had determined, it has been said, to hold Marl- 
borough east of the Dender while they invested the town, but 
before they could get their guns in position, Cadogan— he who 
led the advance at Ramilies— was crossing the stream six miles 
south of them and their position was " turned." Amazed at 
such rapid moves, even of Marlborough, the French com- 
manders decided that now they must get across the Scheldt, 
near Oudenarde, and confront him there. For this purpose 
their columns were directed on Gavre, six miles northeast of 
Oudenarde, where bridges were already thrown across; and 
about half-past ten on the sultry morning of the nth of July, 
their advance, under the Marquis de Biron, passed quietly over 
and moved up the slopes of the Norken, sending out foragers 
right and left. Behind him, in leisurely march, came the entire 
French army. Despite the lesson of the Dender it did not seem 
to occur to these leaders of Louis XIV. that Marlborough might 
teach them another, and beat them to the commanding ground 
across the Scheldt. Had Turenne, Conde, or even unlucky 
Villeroy, been at their head, there would have been less delibera- 
tion and far more energy of movement. The Duke of Vendome, 
one of their chiefs, was a fine soldier, but all his efforts were 
clogged by the Duke of Burgundy, whose rank carried with it 
supreme command, and both on the march and in the battle that 
followed, his fatuity brought about grave consequences. At the 
very moment when de Biron with his advance was lounging 
about the bridges at Gavre, Cadogan, eager, rapid and impetu- 
ous, was urging his men to the completion of the four bridges 
he had to throw across just below Oudenarde, and then out he 
went, he and his light horse, and at twelve o'clock the foraging 
parties of the French, plundering among the villages on the 
plateau, were confounded by the sight of the British standards 
on the opposite slopes. The largest village, Heurne, lay on the 
west bank of the Scheldt, two miles below Oudenarde, well up 
on the slopes, with a broad plain behind and on each side of it 
—a plain that stretched another two miles northward, where it 
came to a point between the Norken and the Scheldt, just above 
the French bridges at Gavre. 



342 OUDENARDE. 

Cadogan's advance was composed of eight squadrons of light 
horse and sixteen battalions of foot, with good field-artillery. 
The cavalry were mainly Hanoverians; the artillery had not 
come up, thanks to heavy roads, but Cadogan never hesitated. 
He swung his two brigades of infantry into position, facing north- 
east, on the slopes beyond Oudenarde and dashed in at the head 
of his squadrons, forded the little stream that cut the plateau in 
half, rode, cheering, through the village of Eyne on its north 
bank, whirling the foragers before him up the slopes to the plain 
of Heurne, and never drew rein until he had chased them to its 
extreme point and found himself charged in turn by de Biron 
with a much larger force, before which Cadogan retired in good 
order. De Biron pursued until he reached the bluffs above 
Eyne and there came in sight of the brigades of infantry in line 
of battle, the pontoon bridges down behind them on the Scheldt, 
and the huge clouds of dust rising skyward behind Oudenarde. 
In utter amazement he realized that the whole army of the con- 
federates was within gunshot of the plateau, and his own people 
not within supporting distance. Promptly sending back word 
to Gavre of the approach of the troops of Marlborough, and the 
presence of their advance, he gallantly stood to his ground and 
seized the little village of Eyne with the intention of fortifying. 
And at that very moment Marlborough and Eugene arrived at 
full gallop at the bridges. 

The French were thunderstruck by the news ; Vendome alone 
seems to have formed a just estimate of the situation. He 
judged by the distance of the dust-clouds that only the advance 
of the confederates had crossed the Scheldt, and that by prompt 
action it could be overwhelmed and crushed before the main 
army could reach Oudenarde. Fine soldier that he was, Ven- 
dome lost not an instant. Seven strong battalions of Swiss in- 
fantry were thrown forward to occupy the village of Heurne, 
while all his divisions of foot and horse were directed to march 
/outhward with the view of forming line of battle parallel to, and 
facing the Scheldt along the plateau itself It would have been 
a very easy matter for him by one o'clock, or two at the latest, 
to dash upon Cadogan and his comrade Rantzau, hurl them 



BURGUNDY COUNTERMANDS VENDOME'S ORDERS 343 

back on the river and seize and break up the pontoons, for, be- 
sides the advance, only the confederate cavalry was in sight at 
noon. 

Already his infantry was marching out upon the plateau, and 
General Pfeffer with the seven battalions of Swiss had gone, not 
into Heurne, but, by some mistake in name, beyond it a full 
mile, and was now loopholing the walls of Eyne, which Biron 
had so recently seized. Already Cadogan and Rantzau saw 
their position threatened and began to cast anxious glances to- 
wards Oudenarde and the coming reinforcements ; already Marl- 
borough and Eugene, marking the massive advance of Vendome's 
columns along the opposite plateau, were trembling with appre- 
hension for their advance, if such men ever did tremble, when 
suddenly the heads of their own columns appeared, some cross- 
ing the heights of Edelaere, behind them, some winding around 
the southern base between the heights and Oudenarde, and at 
the same instant the French divisions sheered off to the north, 
and, by a rapid movement to their right flank, began the descent 
into the ravine of the Norken. To the rage of Vendome, to the 
wonderment of Marlborough, and the unmixed delight of him- 
self and Eugene, the faint-hearted Duke of Burgundy had coun- 
termanded Vendome's orders — abandoned the whole plateau, 
and was falling back to the line of low heights behind the Nor- 
ken, marked by the villages of Lede and Huysse. They had 
left poor Pfeffer with his Swiss division all alone out there in 
Eyne under the plateau. 

Marlborough was not the man to let slip such a chance. Al- 
ready his cavalry was crossing the bridges, and by three o'clock 
the head of the infantry columns began to arrive. The one 
battery that had managed to struggle forward with the horsemen 
was posted on the slopes commanding the ground towards the 
village of Diepenbeck, which stands on a portion of the plateau, 
shaped for all the world like an inverted, old-fashioned, circular 
tin pan, the two branches of the stream that drain the plateau 
having scooped out semi-circular troughs for themselves around 
it, and then, meeting on the east side, rippled off towards the 
Scheldt. This flat-topped, circular mound is about a mile across. 



344 OUDENARDE. 

with Diepenbeck on its eastern edge, the Oudenarde side, and it 
must be noted well. That mound is to be the vortex of the 
battle. 

The moment the infantry came up, Cadogan's brigade of foot 
left to guard the bridges was relieved and sent across t® join 
him. At three o'clock he had there twelve battalions of mus- 
keteers, and Rantzau's Hanoverian dragoons, and there was 
Pfeffer with his seven battalions of Swiss, backed by a few of de 
Biron's horse, utterly isolated, abandoned by the blundering 
stupidity of the French duke. The sight was enough for any 
soldier. Cadogan swooped down with his whole force, Sabine's 
brigade of British infantry in front, while Rantzau's horse splashed 
through the rivulet higher up to take the position " in reverse." 
The fight was sharp, short and bloody. Twelve battalions, eight 
of them English, were too heavy metal for the Swiss even be- 
hind loopholed walls. They were soon driven out ; Pfeffer and 
three battalions were taken prisoners on the spot ; the rest, at- 
tempting to retreat across the plateau towards the Norken, were 
surrounded, shot or sabred, and a number more taken prisoners 
out near the old windmill. The French cavalry, far from coming 
to their aid, attempted to slink off towards their supports, but 
were charged by Rantzau, driven pell-mell across the Norken 
and up among their own comrades on the other side, and yet 
Rantzau and most of his troopers came back unharmed, with 
twelve standards and a French colonel among their trophies. 

Several distinguished nobles charged with Rantzau in this 
gallant little affair — among them the electoral Prince of Han- 
over, afterwards George II. of England, and Count Lusky, who 
was killed. 

Now it seemed to the French generals that something had to 
be done. Anything more lamentable than the manoeuvres of 
the Duke of Burgundy thus far can hardly be conceived, ^nd 
yet, spurred to action of some kind by the furious arguments 
of his generals, who were overcome with rage and mortification 
at the disgrace which had attended them so far, he decided to 
fight at once, and therein made a bigger blunder tlian he had 
before. 



RENEWED BLUNDERING OF THE FRENCH COMMANDER. 345 

He had sacrificed Pfeffer and the plateau in order to gain a 
strong position behind the Norken. He was now in that posi- 
tion, and there was httle hkehhood of Marlborough's attacking 
him before the next day, for the latter's army had marched 
fifteen miles and was much fatigued, and in no condition to as- 
sault an enemy posted as the French were now posted. If they 
did attack that evening, the chances were vastly in favor of their 
being whipped. If they did not, then the French would have 
twelve hours or more, in which to strengthen their ground, and 
the morrow would be the more likely to bring them victory. 

But the hot-headed Frenchmen clamored for instant battle, 
and, yielding to their demands, the duke weakly decided to at- 
tack, and in so doing he came down from his strong line, re- 
crossed the Norken in front of Marlborough's forming divisions, 
and proceeded to grapple with him on equal terms, on the very 
ground he had abandoned an hour earlier. 

He had made heavy sacrifices to abandon that position for a 
better; now he proposed to make still heavier sacrifices to regain 
it. All this irresolution, confusion and change of purpose was 
plain to the keen sight of Marlborough and Eugene, now seated 
in their saddles on the low bluffs just opposite Eyne, and they 
were in blithe spirits over the prospect. 

As yet Marlborough's infantry was not in line ; some of the 
divisions were still crossing the bridges, but fast as they came 
up they moved up the slopes near the hamlet of Severe, and out 
towards the castle of the same name, where they extended their 
lines to the left, and halted, facing north along the slope of the 
rivulet which flowed between them and the circular mound of 
Diepenbeck. Nearly all the French cavalry were drawn up 
across the Norken on the west end of their line, and from this, 
their right wing, the duke ordered the first movement. Grimaldi 
with sixteen squadrons swept down across the stream and 
forward towards Diepenbeck to " feel " the British position, but 
at sight of the silent lines of infantry a mile away, he concluded 
to come no farther, but halted at the mill of Hoyegem, over on 
the second plateau. However, enough had occurred to lead 
Marlborough to see that the French meant to attack speedily, 



346 OUDENARDE. 

SO he himself rapidly crossed the little stream at the head of the 
Prussian horse, and placed it, facing the enemy on the plain, back 
of Heurne in support of Cadogan, where twelve battalions were 
thrown forward into the hedges of Groenevelde directly in front 
of the French centre. Even as the cavalry were trotting into 
position, the French right centre quickly advanced down the 
slopes of the Norken, crossed the farther plateau on which 
Grimaldi had halted, dipped down again into the circular ravine 
which swept around the plateau of Diepenbeck, and then came 
gallantly down upon Cadogan's advance in the hedges. These 
were the best troops of the French line, thirty battalions of 
French and Swiss guards, and the chosen brigades " du Roi," 
Picardy and Royal Roussillon; but Cadogan stuck to his hedges 
like a bull-dog, yielding not an inch of ground until the Duke 
of Argyll, general of the British infantry, hurried forward to 
his support with twenty battalions, and then the combined com- 
mands proved too strong for the Frenchmen ; they fell back 
across the rivulet, and formed on the slope of the Diepenbeck 
plateau, their front following the course of the stream and show- 
ing a complete semi-circle with the convex side toward the Eng- 
lish ; and now Cadogan lapped around towards the French left 
with his own flank dangerously threatened by attack across the 
Norken, while Argyll swung completely around from their cen- 
tre to their right, and thus it happened that the mound of Die- 
penbeck became the vortex of the fight. The French sprang 
forward to reinforce their advance, the English and their allies 
swept on to sustain Cadogan and Argyll, and after half an hour's 
desperate grapple the French found themselves bent backward 
into a circular line of battle around the plateau of Diepenbeck 
as a centre, while across the rivulet which marked their front, 
strong lines of confederate infantry closely invested them. 

It was six o'clock. Marlborough and Eugene, who had hith- 
erto been watching and directing the conflict from the plateau 
back of Heurne, now separated — Eugene being assigned to the 
high honor of commanding all the right wing where the British 
infantry and most of the British cavalry were fighting, while 
Marlborough galloped back across the stream to direct opera- 



FURIOUS CHARGING AND COUNTER-CHARGING. 347 

tions on his own centre and left. Here, with their backs to- 
wards Oudenarde and facing Diepenbeck, the Prussians and 
Hanoverians were stoutly engaged with the dense masses of the 
French ; but the heaviest fighting was still going on over to the 
north and eastern sides of the central mound, and thither Marl- 
borough sent most of his infantry. 

Thus it happened that Eugene had some sixty battalions at his 
disposal, v\ hile his comrade had but twenty. Meantime, of 
course, the whole left wing of the French had crossed the 
Norken and thrown itself on Prince Eugene ; and Cadogan, well 
out to the front, was now assailed front, right and rear, and had 
to drop the hedges near Herlehem whither he had worked his 
way, and face this new attack. Then on his right there came to 
support him a grand charge of Prussian cuirassiers, led by 
General Natzmer, which broke the first line of Vendome and 
sent many of his battalions scurrying down into the ravine of 
the Norken, whence they rallied, however, and swept the 
squadrons with a heavy fire of musketry that emptied dozens of 
saddles, and, being charged in turn by the French household 
cavalry and himself severely wounded, Natzmer had to retreat 
with considerable loss ; but he had saved Cadogan, and when 
Vendome again urged forward his footmen, the British were 
ready and received them with a withering volley that drove them 
again to cover. 

Meantime Marlborough, with the Hanoverian and Dutch in- 
fantry back of Oudenarde, charged the French lines along the 
rivulet, drove them up the reverse slope, and were now slowly but 
surely creeping forward and more closely penning them in. But 
the French line extended some distance southwestward, toward 
the higher ground around the mill and village of Oycke which 
overlooked the plateau of Diepenbeck. Had they occupied this 
high ground the French would have commanded the field 
within range of their guns, but the only real soldierly general of 
their army was far to the other side. The Duke of Burgundy 
never seemed to see it, and the chance Avas lost. 

Old Marshal Overkirk, who had brought up the rear with 
twent}' battalions of Dutch and Danish infantry and a large 



348 OUDENARDE. 

body of cavalry, had just crossed the bridges and was deploying 
upon the extreme left of Marlborough's line. It was after six 
o'clock, but there was still time. Half an hour's sharp marching 
would gain the plateau of Oycke, then he could wheel to the 
right, and the right wing of the French would be immediately 
under him. ^'Marlborough lost not a moment. He galloped 
over to where the old German soldier was deploying his lines, 
pointed out the position, quickly explained the great advantage 
to be gained, and then as quickly gave his orders. He had a 
noble subordinate in the veteran marshal. The latter saw 
through the plan at a glance, and sent in his right division to 
sweep the enemy out of the ravine near the castle of Bevere, 
which was accomplished after a short and bloody struggle. 
Then his centre and left divisions, supported by the cavalry, 
moved up on the plateau of Oycke, and then, finding no enemy 
there, " changed front forward on the right " — a movement which 
brought them at right angles to their old line, and enveloping 
and enfilading the right flank of the French. It was the deci- 
sive move of the battle. The army of the confederates now 
formed one vast semi-circle around the right wing of the French, 
and the latter could look for nothing but surrender or annihila- 
tion. 

Vendome, commanding the French left wing along the Nor- 
ken, now made a desperate effort to cut his way through to the 
rescue of the surrounded right. 'Dismounting from his horse he 
led forward his lines, and fell again upon Cadogan with his right 
brigade, while the rest of his wing confronted Prince Eugene and 
the long, serried ranks of British squadrons on the plateau. 
The attempt was fruitless. His men were disheartened at the 
utter inefficiency of their leaders when compared with those of 
the confederates. Cadogan was as solid in his position as before, 
and the rest of the line, seeing the cavalry of Eugene preparing 
to charge, could not be induced to advance another step. In 
bitter humiliation Vendome saw his wing recoil before the mere 
threat of attack, and once more take refuge in the ravine. 
Ordering his cavalry to hold them there and to charge if a 
single battalion again attempted to show front on the plain, Eu- 




OUDENARDE, THE ELECTOR OF HANOVER, AFTERWARDS GEORGE IL 
LEADING HIS SQUADRON INTO ACTION. (R. Caton WoodvUle.) 



THE LAST HOPE OF BURGUNDY GONE. 349 

gene galloped in toward his left, to complete the encircling of the 
French right wing. Cadogan's division, having shaken off the 
assault of Vendome's right, and being assured that no further 
molestation need be feared from them, now changed front for- 
ward to the left and lapped completely around the northeastern 
front of the plateau of Diepenbeck. It was growing dark, and 
the ruddy flashes of the musketry alone served to determine the 
position of the contending lines. Still the French fought gal- 
lantly, desperately, hoping to be extricated from the trap. 

It must have been nearly eight o'clock when Prince Eugene 
and his staff officers caught sight of dark masses descending the 
slopes a mile away towards Oycke, and coming down on the rear 
of the French foot and on the right flank of the French house- 
hold troops and dragoons who were still watching the conflict from 
their halting-place beyond the mill of Hoyegem. And when it was 
so dark that they could not tell whether the advancing lines were 
friends or foes, the prince and his officers were greeted by the 
stirring sound of volleys from the west, and in a few moments 
more the crest of Hoyegem was all in a glare with the rapid 
flashes of their musketry. Away went the dragoons and house- 
hold cavalry of France. Taken in flank and rear by advanc- 
ing lines of disciplined infantry, they were thrown into confusion. 
Some galloped back to the ravine of the Norken. Some pushed 
forward into the centre of the narrowing circle on the plateau of 
Diepenbeck. The last hope of the Duke of Burgundy was 
gone. Old Marshal Overkirk, after changing front to his right 
on the plain of Oycke, had thrown forward Count Tilly and the 
Prince of Nassau with a strong force of infantry and cavalry to 
descend to the plateau behind that of Diepenbeck, sweep away 
the cavalry drawn up at the mill of Hoyegem, and then assault 
the French rear on the circular plateau. Completely surrounded 
now, nothing but darkness saved the French right wing from 
annihilation. Fearful that, as his own right and Overkirk's left 
were now in juxtaposition, they might mistake one another for 
enemies, Eugene caused his own lines to halt and cease firing, 
and this being imitated by Overkirk, the battle practically endesd 
here. 

23 



350 OUDENARDE. 

It was nine o'clock. The carnage on the French side arocnd 
Diepenbeck had been terrible, and the confederates had also lost 
heavily. But now in the darkness some nine thousand of the 
French managed to slip away towards the south through the 
dark ravine by the castle of Bevere, and by marching all night 
these stragglers made their way to the frontiers of France. 
Others too, in knots of four or five, succeeded in crawling back 
towards the Norken, but these were trifling in comparison with 
the numbers that remained dead, wounded or hemmed in on 
that bloody circle. 

And now, at ten o'clock at night, the Duke of Burgundy with 
a retinue of panic-stricken generals stood in the village of 
Huysse listening to the tales of disaster and ruin that met him 
every moment. Here he was joined by Vendome, who strove 
to induce his superior to issue orders reorganizing his demoral- 
ized forces, and conduct an orderly retreat, but the duke would 
do nothing. He was completely whipped and thought of only 
the quickest way to get to a place of safety. With some few 
battalions and squadrons Vendome wearily faced the foe, and in 
deep disgust strove to cover the flight of his countrymen, who, 
generals and privates alike, broke for Ghent in wildest disorder. 
The battle of Oudenarde was the most crushing blow yet ad- 
ministered to the armies of Louis XIV., for hardly a brigade was 
left with the colors when morning dawned upon the scene. 

Marlborough and Eugene bivouacked on the field, closely 
guarding the plateau, and at the first break of day proceeded to 
count their gains. Four thousand Frenchmen lay dead along 
that gory semicircle, and eleven thousand, wounded and prison- 
ers, still remained to fall into the hands of the confederates. 
Seven fine regiments of dragoons in the centre of the plateau 
surrendered their standards as they stood among the corpses of 
their comrades and their slaughtered horses. Seven hundred 
officers gave up their swords. No guns are reported taken, as 
those of the French too were left east of the Scheldt, but, while 
the confederates had lost only 3,000 killed and wounded, the 
army of Burgundy and Vendome was /iterally pounded to pieces. 
Indeed, as the duke wrote at the time, could they have had three 



THE KING OF FRANCE PROPOSES PEACE. 35^ 

hours more of daylight, there would have been an end to the 



war. 



Even as it was, King Louis made proposals of peace. He had 
had more than enough of fighting against such men as Marlbor- 
ough and Eugene. The enmity of the latter was something he 
bitterly regretted, for though called Prince Eugene of Savoy, 
this brilliant soldier was a Frenchman, a Parisian by birth, and 
had years before offered his services to his king, was refused a 
commission, and so took service in Austria, where he soon rose 
to high command and distinction. Then King Louis strove to 
recall him to France, but he declined to give up his commission 
in the service which had warmly received him and borne him to 
such great success. Sentence of exile was then passed upon 
him, and Eugene became a Savoyard, as being the nearest thing 
to a Frenchman. He and Vendome were own cousins. 

Marlborough's grand success at Oudenarde led to further 
rejoicings, festivity and public thanksgiving in England, but 
bitter enemies were still at work against him, and the imperious 
temper and tongue of his wife were stirring up incessant discord 
at the court, where her majesty the queen found that the exac- 
tions and domineering ways of the friend of her youth were 
plunging her into deeper entanglements all the time. Lady 
Marlborough's influence at home was on the wane, and even the 
unlimited successes of the great captain of his day could not 
save him from court jealousy and intrigue. England began to 
fail him in the support he needed. The terms proposed by the 
King of France were not accepted, and the war went grimly on. 
An unusual feature of Marlborough's great battles was that, 
in point of numbers engaged, the contending armies were gen- 
erally very evenly matched. It was the case as we have seen at 
Blenheim and Ramilies. Here again at Oudenarde about 60,000 
men came into action on each side, and at the most bloody and 
hard fought of all, the memorable fight of Malplaquet, in the 
following year, each army brought 100,000 men into line. As 
a battle Malplaquet is perhaps more deserving of description 
than Ramilies or Oudenarde, for the forces there engaged were 
much larger, and much more brilliantly led than before, but it 



352 OUDENARDE. 

was utterly indecisive in its results ; it was won by hard pound- 
ing at an almost impenetrable position ; it involved a terrible 
sacrifice of life and limb, and for no purpose whatever. Marl- 
borough and Eugene only succeeded in forcing the French to 
fall back in good order a few miles, at a cost of 20,000 killed 
and wounded; while at the highest estimate only 14,000 men 
can be claimed as the total loss, including prisoners, of the 
French. Malplaquet was a fruitless slaughter, and though a 
tactical victory could be claimed for the arms of the confederates, 
it is certain that it did them more harm than good. At home 
the outcries against Marlborough broke forth afresh. He was 
accused of peculation and disloyalty, and although the French 
now yielded to him the palm of invincibility, it was only in the 
field. He never fought a battle that he did not win, never laid 
siege to a city that he did not conquer, never met a leader in 
the ranks of war whom he did not overthrow. His last cam- 
paign of 171 1 was perhaps the most brilliantly conducted of hi.--' 
career, and yet soon thereafter Marlborough left England a 
voluntary exile. He could not triumph over enemies at home 
whose battles he was fighting at the front. Distinguished as 
courtier and statesman as he was as soldier, and though a faith- 
ful husband and devoted father, the great duke had grave faults, 
which historians and writers, notably Macaulay and Thackeray, 
have not failed to fully describe. We deal with him only as the 
soldier, and as a soldier he had no superior. 



LEUTHEN. 




«757- 

EXT among the great generals came Frederick 
II. of Prussia, justly termed Frederick the 
Great. The death of his harsh old father 
brought him to the throne on the 31st of 
May, 1740, and he who had hated military 
duty in his youth, had loved music and litera- 
ture, had loved extravagance to the verge of 
foppery in dress, suddenly found hin»self King 
of Prussia. He sprang to the head of the finest army in the world 
in point of discipline and efficiency, though small in numbers, 
and found himself called upon to defend his frontiers on every 
side from powerful and bitter foes. Six months after his acces- 
sion he clashed with Austria for the possession of Silesia, which 
his people claimed as Prussian territory, and from that hour 
almost to the end of his eventful life, Frederick the Great was in- 
volved in desperate and almost incessant warfare. 

The eighteenth century brought forth more brilliant soldiers 
in Europe than have been found in the whole world in any othei 
hundred years. Marlborough and Prince Eugene were in their 
prime when it opened ; Charles XII. of Sweden was still the 
amazement of Christendom, though his star soon waned at Pul- 
towa, and now, all over the continent there seemed to spring into 
vigorous life more than a score of younger generals of all na- 
tions. In the campaigns from 1740 to the close of the century 
we find them everywhere. From a soldier standpoint we might 
mark off that century into right, centre and left, and assign its 
chief to each, or divide it into three epochs — those of its three 
greatest soldiers : ist. Its beginning; 2d. Its middle ; 3d. Its end, 

(863) 



354 LEUTHEN. 

and in the ascending scale of greatness place them where they 
stood in order of time — Marlborough, then Frederick the Great, 
then, greatest of all. Napoleon. 

We have come to the middle of the century, and for twenty 
years no name rivalled that of Frederick II. of Prussia; and no 
war, for brilliant moves, rapid combinations, desperate, sanguin- 
ary and thrilling battles, compared in interest with that on which 
we now enter. The Seven Years' War. 

Fought originally for the sake of Silesia, it became the fiercest, 
as it was the last of the three great struggles for that province. 
Austria demanded Silesia as her right, Russia, through the 
Empress Elizabeth, hated Frederick, and was willing to help. 
The Elector of Saxony and King of Poland had grievances of 
some kind against Prussia, and weak, woman-led Louis XV. of 
France was glad enough to do anything the reigning favorite, 
Madame Pompadour, demanded. She, too, hated Prussia, and 
before he knew it King Frederick found himself absolutely en- 
circled by enemies. No one but England would lend him a 
helping hand. All Europe was jealous of his almost perfect 
army, and so the cordon was woven round him — east, south and 
west — only northward was he unassailed, and so it resulted that 
the armies of this great coalition became known as, and fre- 
quently termed, " The Armies of the Circle." Never before, 
never since, had the sturdy German kingdom such odds against 
her. Could they attack all at once, or on all sides at once, Prus- 
sia was ruined. But it took time to get troops upon her bor- 
ders, and Frederick jumped at the chance. He would beat them 
in detail. 

Saxony lay nearest, and the first of the seven campaigns of 
the Seven Years' War began August, 1756. Prussia pounced oa 
Dresden, the Saxon capital, whipped back Austria when she 
came to the rescue, and turned the Saxon soldiers into Prussians 
forthwith. So far Frederick was way ahead, but, being com- 
pelled to winter in Saxony and Silesia in order to hold them, he 
and his armies were far to the south; Then Sweden concluded 
to attempt to reconquer Pomerania, Prussia's north borderer, and 
so joined the circle, hemming in the east half of her northern 



IMMENSE ODDS AGAINST FREDERICK. 355 

front, and now at the opening of the spring campaign of 1757 
the Armies of the Circle numbered 430,000, against Frederick's 
total of 260,000 (British and Hanoverians included). He was 
no whit dismayed. He had the great military advantage of mov- 
ing on interior lines while the allies hammered at him at differ- 
ent points of the big circle. He had faith in his combinations, 
and for seventeen years he had been studying and practising war 
as faithfully as he had previously clung to his flute. 

He darted first upon the Austrians and wofully whipped them 
at Prague, though it cost him 18,000 men, killed and wounded, 
to do it, and the Austrians suffered only 1,000 more. But then 
a new Austrian army under a splendid soldier, Daun, one of the 
brilliant galaxy that made the century famous, drove Frederick 
back in turn, beating him fairly at Kolin ; and the French under 
their fine leader, D'Estrees, punished the English and Hanover- 
ians, so that the second year of the war looked black for 
Prussia. 

But Frederick, now threatened by another French army in 
Saxony, together with a large force of Imperialists, bade his out- 
posts stand firm. He himself led a rapid march against the new 
attack, and on November 5th administered a crushing blow at 
Rossbach, one of his best fights (it would take ten volumes of 
this size to tell them all), and then, just one month after, just 
when it seemed as though there were not an earthly hope left 
for him or Prussia, he turned back like a lion on the swarming 
foe in Silesia, and on December 5th, fought and won his great- 
est and most astonishing battle, Leuthen, otherwise known as 
Lissa. 

Premising that the great master of the art of war, Napoleon, 
says of this battle : " It is a masterpiece of movements, of man- 
oeuvres, and of resolution ; enough to immortalize Frederick, and 
rank him among the greatest generals," let us, as best we may, 
lay before the reader its story. 

With more than 80,000 Austrians at his back, Prince Charles 
of Lorraine, the favoi'ed general of his empress, has pushed 
northward through Silesia, whipped out the small Prussian gar- 
risons, winning town after town, fort after fort, arms, stores and 



356 LEUTHEN. 

guns ; has at last reached and conquered the city of Breslau, with 
Count Bevern, its luckless chief, and its large garrison and arma- 
ment; thence, flushed with triumph and delight, he sends his 
proud message to Vienna — "All Silesia is now regained to your 
majesty ; " and here he learns with utter amaze and incredulity 
that Frederick is hastening by forced marches, and with only 
such troops as he can hurriedly pick up on the way, to give him 
battle. It is the end of November; the weather is gloomy and 
threatening, yet in the Austrian camps around Breslau all is 
jollity and confidence. The story goes among the officers at 
mess, among the men at the canteens. " What ! Fritz with his 
Potsdammers advancing on us ? — Bosh ! " Even should he dare 
come, what more could they ask? He might scrape up 30,000 
/nen from the shattered, scattered fragments of his armies, and 
they — they had full 90,000 here around Breslau. They had 
whipped the Prussians all through Silesia for three months past. 
" Let him come — he's as mad as his old father." 

He is coming, sure enough, and what is more has " turned " 
the line at Liegnitz, where lay a strong Austrian force thrown 
forward by Prince Charles to hold him in check, and now, 
December 2d, he is close under the banks of the Oder at 
Parchwitz, only two days march away, waiting only for Ziethen, 
staunch old Hussar-leading Ziethen. He has come way round 
in a big circle from Rossbach across the Saale; starting with 
only 13,000 men, quick as marching could make it, he has 
swung through Leipsic and Torgau and Bautzen, 200 miles on 
a bee-line, 250 the way he had to come — he is here in front of 
Breslau. 

Prince Charles is fairly mad with joy. Right here before 
him, with only 25,000 or 30,000 men at the utmost, is the arch 
enemy of his beloved empress. He with his army occupies a 
strong position facing west, covering Breslau. He has the forti- 
fications of the city behind him. Before him lies the " Schweid- 
nitz Water," so easily defensible. He has nearly go,ooo men, 
and Frederick proposes coming to whip him out. An additional, 
an inevitable triumph lies in his grasp, and in his impatience he 
takes the step that robs him of it all — aye, even of all he has 



GENERAL DAUN OVERRULED. 357 

won before. He cannot wait for Frederick : he must move out, 
fall upon and crush him. 

But he hears of expostulation and demur among some of his 
generals who see no reason for giving up their ready defences to 
try an issue in open field. He summons a council, and there 
speaks General Daun, his second in command, the Daun who 
had fought Frederick before, knew him well, and knew him 
too well to throw away chances. "Why moveout?" said Daun. 
" Let him assault us here, and we will crush him." 

But Daun had been superseded by Prince Charles. Daun 
might be jealous, thought the Prince and the Prince's satellites. 
Some few old war-dogs growled their approval of Daun's argu- 
ments, but there were all the eager young bloods, all the chivalry 
of the empire against him. Lucchesi spoke up in vehement 
advocacy of the advance : " Forward," he urged. " We can- 
not fail; we have won Silesia. Now let us finish him and the 
war with him," and eager Lucchesi carried the convention by 
storm. Daun was overcome, the advance was sounded, Lucchesi 
won, and paid for it with his life. Frederick " finished liim " 
two days after at Leuthen ; fooled him first and killed him after- 
wards. 

And so, for the first time on record, the Austrians marched 
forward to open battle with Frederick. They never tried it 
again. 

Twelve or fifteen miles west of Breslau lies a low ridge run- 
ing north and south across the highway ; not much of a ridge 
either. There are no real hills anywhere in that part of the 
country. There are knobs and knolls and waves of ground, and 
low swamps, and scnibby patches of woods, and numbers of 
stoutly built little hamlets. Six or seven of these are in sight 
from the point- where the highway crosses this low ridge, and 
right here Prince Charles is met by startling news. Twelve 
miles farther west lies the town of Neumarkt. He had sent 
forward to that point his army bakery, his bakers, a few quarter- 
masters, and a reasonably good-sized guard. Their orders were 
to set up the bakery at Neumarkt, and have 80,000 rations of 
fresh loaves in readiness for his epicurean soldiery whti\ iJ^sj- 



358 LEUTMEN. 

got there next day. The news was that Frederick had got there 
first, and with much gusto had swallowed up his bakery, bak- 
ings, bakers, guards and all, and was coming ahead as though 
only too ready to swallow everything he encountered. It was 
here that General Daun is reported to have originated a query 
that has since become a household word : " Didn't I tell you so?" 

Then arose the question. What was to be done ? To fall back 
ten miles to the old works would certainly shatter the morale of 
the army. To push ahead might be to stumble into some one 
of those traps .the wily Prussian king so well knew how to lay ; 
and here, right here, was a capital line. It was adopted at once. 
With its centre in the village of Leuthen, a long mile south of 
the highway, its right at Nypern, two and a half miles north of 
that road, and its left off behind Sagschiitz, the whole some six 
miles in extent, the Austrian army formed line of battle. The 
position was a good one; the villages were heavily garrisoned by 
strong divisions of'infantry, thrown forward from the main lines. 
Over one hundred guns of light calibre were advantageously 
posted along the ridge; the cavalry of Lucchesi, out on the ex- 
treme right, where that zealous and enthusiastic soldier is to have 
command; that of Nadasti on the left and facing a low meadow- 
like stretch of land, lying down to and beyond Sagschiitz to the 
west ; while Daun's horsemen are posted in rear of Leuthen, 
and Daun is to command the centre immediately under the ey^ 
of Prince Charles, who has begun to think by this time that it 
were to his best interests to have his experienced subordinate 
close at his side. Nadasti on the' left is a fine soldier, and has 
made an admirable disposition there. A thick little copse bends 
around on the slope with rather a sharp angle or elbow. He 
has crammed it with infantry, felled trees towards the west 
and south, and now otcupies a compact little field-fort at this 
angle, while his line,'bent back towards the rear at this point, is 
strongly backed up by a second line of footmen, and by the 
squadrons of horse. The peculiar formation is known to military 
students as " C7i potencc." 

Such being his main line, Prince Charles sends forward a 
strong brigade of cavalr to the west towards Frederick, and 



FREDERICK'S MEMORABLE ADDRESS. 359 

gives its commander, General Nostitz, orders to go well beyond 
Borne, the first village to the west, and there watch for the ad- 
vance of Frederick, and give timely notice of his coming. This 
done, he and his army betake themselves to easy-minded re- 
pose. 

Now for Frederick. On Sunday morning at four o'clock he 
sets out from Parchwitz at the head of his army, learning with 
grim satisfaction that the Austrians have moved forward to meet 
him, and he will not have to assault them in their stronghold. 
He knows every inch of the ground towards Breslau, for all 
along here he has been in the habit of exercising and manoeu- 
vring his army. Early that afternoon he pounces on Neu- 
markt with its bakers and bakery, and that night and for several 
to come, the Prussians have fresh bread for supper. Before leav- 
ing Parchwitz he had held a memorable meeting with his 
generals, and delivered an address that has come down to us 
verbatim. We have only space to quote a portion : 

" I intend in spite of the rules of art to attack Prince Carl's 
army, which is nearly thrice our strength, wherever I find it. 
The question is not of numbers, or the strength of his position ; 
all this, by courage, by the skill of our methods, we will try to 
make good. This step I must risk, or everything is lost. We 
must beat the enemy, or perish all of us before his batteries. So 
I read the case ; so I will act in it. If there should be one or 
another who dreads to share all dangers with me, he can have 
his discharge to-night." 

But no general needed that: all were eager and confident. 
They, too, most of them, knew their ground and had faith in their 
leader. Then the king strolled off among the bivouac fires to 
see his soldiers. It was a quaint fashion he had, but it made 
them love him. " Good-evening, my children," he cheerily 
hailed as they rose and grouped about him; and some old life- 
guardsmen, well knowing his humor, queried in the brusque 
and familiar way he liked at such times : " What news then, 
Fritz ? What brings you so late?" 

" Good news, lads : to-morrow you are to tfrrash the Austrians 
for me, and thrash them well — no matter how strong we find 



ggO LEUTHEN. 

them ; " and sturdy, resolute answer did he get from all. Then 
with parting "Good-night, good rest, my children," and "Good- 
night, old Fritz," or, more respectful, " Good-night, your maj- 
est)%" off he would go to the fires of the next regiment. 

And so in the very best humor his brave fellows had marched 
on towards Neumarkt that raw Sunday morning; and in still 
better humor, immensely tickled at the way old Fritz had nabbed 
that Austrian bakerj-, they had by his orders gone early to their 
blankets that Sunday evening, for soon after midnight, very 
stealthily, he wakes his army. At one o'clock they ar^* in ranks ; 
at two, on the road to Breslau. 

It is long before daybreak — a raw, fogg)-, Monday morning, 
this 5th of December, 1757, and in four columns, both on and 
parallel to the high-road, Frederick in front with his staff, only 
a few hussars well out ahead, the Prussian army trudges or trots 
along — ver)' silently too — well closed up on head of column. 
There is no telling how soon the Austrians may be encountered. 
All goes well six — seven miles. Then word comes back from 
the hussar advance that there is something ahead. Vigilant 
light cavalrj'men, "the eyes and ears of the army," make out 
that across the highway, and extending nearly half a mile right 
and left, there is a line of troops just astir. 

Quickly, without trumpet call, but in that perfect order 
and discipline in which old Ziethen kept his hussars, six or 
eight regiments of horse form line to right and left-front, feel 
their way forward until, in the first gray mists of dawn, they can 
just make out the shadowy line ahead, then charge! Away 
they go, crashing in upon poor Nostitz and his outpost, killing 
the unwar)- leader and man}- others, capturing 500 prisoners and 
driving the Saxon and Austrian horse helter-skelter back tow- 
ards Leuthen ; every man for himself, in wildest disorder ; and, 
as luck would have it, these panic-stricken, stampeded wrecks 
go whirling off north of the high-road as they near the lines of 
Austria, and tell their tale of dismay not to sturdy Daun, but to 
mercurial Lucchesi up at Nj-pern on the right. " The whole 
Prussian army is at our heels — we are cut to pieces — nothing 
left of the Saxon hussars," etc., etc., and Lucchesi starts in at 



lucchesi deceived. 361 

daybreak, on this eventful day, with the expectation of being the 
chosen object of Frederick's attack. Despite the peat-bog in 
his front, he believes that there and nowhere else will the Prus- 
sians appear. Already, argues he, they are striking off north of 
the high-road, and will come thundering down on my right ; so, 
nervously, he begins to feel off in that direction with his alarmed 
cavalry, and sure enough, before 'tis broad daylight, they come 
tearing back. They have seen a few squadrons, and that was 
more than enough. 

Long before Frederick arrives in sight of the Austrians, their 
right is uneasy and alarmed. 

But Frederick has halted his main army at Borne, and, with 
his staff and a few horse-guards, spurs forward to the one high 
knoll to be found thereabouts, and from here — the hill of Borne 
— he sees two miles away, stretching right and left, the long 
lines of the enemy. It is just growing light. Little by little 
the range of Nypern, Leuthen and Sagschutz becoTes perfectly 
distinct, and grim Fritz Magnus laughs in glee. He knows every 
rood of the land, and he could ask nothing better. The height 
he is on stretches away in a gradually lowering range till op- 
posite the Austrian left at Sagschiitz. He can watch everj' move 
they make, but this height and range utterly hides his army ftom 
their view. Quickly he orders up a sufficiently large body of 
horse and some light guns to hold the height and apparently 
threaten the enemy's right ; then soon ?fter seven, orders for- 
ward from Borne, his four parallel columns. He has decided 
just exactly what to do. He means to give them a taste of the 
move of all others he most believes in — most loves to make — 
the attack in oblique order, and he means to try it down there 
at Sagschiitz to the south. 'Twixt eight and nine the heads of 
columns are well up from Borne, and there are his staff officers 
busily at work resolving the four, into two parallel columns and 
turning them southward. At ten o'clock his infantry is trudg- 
ing down back of the range and completely out of sight of the 
Austrians. 

Prince Charles in losing Nostitz and his outpost has lost his 
eyes. He cannot form the faintest idea of what Frederick is 



362 LEUTIIEN. 

doing. Up there on the heights at the high-rcad, and farthet 
northward in front of Nypern, a couple of cavalry brigades keep 
up a restless moving to and fro — now taking ground farther 
northward, as though to open out for more troops ; now mass- 
ing as though for attack — always in front of Lucchesi. Not a 
trooper shows anywhere else along the front, and King Frederick 
is delightedly keeping up the delusion. By ten o'clock he has 
Lucchesi completely on tenter hooks. " The whole Prussian 
force is massing for attack here ; I must be strengthened at 
once," he sends word to Prince Charles, and Prince Charles ap- 
peals to Daun. " Impossible," says the latter; "the King of 
Prussia has manoeuvred all over this country and he is not going 
to attack across bogs and morass." So Lucchesi is ignored. 

Still Frederick keeps stirring him up. More cavalry are 
made to show out there on the Nypern front, for the Prussians 
are having hard work getting up their guns. Seventy-one they 
had in all, and all heavier than the Austrians, who had twice, 
perhaps three times, as many. But ten of the Prussian guns 
are of very heavy calibre, the pets of Frederick and his whole 
army; and these very guns — "The Boomers," as they are called 
— he happens to want just now way over in front of Sagschiitz, 
and it takes time to get them there. Meantime something must 
be done to keep the Austrians entertained, and that explains this 
masquerade over against Nypern. 

After eleven o'clock, and there is no telling still what the 
Prussians are doing. Prince Charles, with Daun and other trusted 
generals, is up in the old church tower of Leuthen, or perched 
on top of windmills scanning the west through their old-fashioned 
spy-glasses. No use to send out cavalry to make inquiries at 
the right and front. Those horsemen of Prussia are too quick 
and vigilant ; and as for the left, opposite Nadasti, any one can 
see there is nothing there. Even if formed, they have not men 
enough to reach that distance in single line. Ah, no; and 
who would suppose that by this time all the army except these 
few cavalry are massed down there waiting only for " The 
Boomers." Every few moments there comes some new rumor 
or alarm fromlhe right, and soon after twelve o'clock an urgent 



FREDERICK'S CELEBRATED OBLIQUE ORDER. 363 

message that begins to look as though there might be something 
after all in Lucchesi's entreaties. 

King Frederick, watching everything from the Borne hill, has 
now got his infantry in exact readiness and position to advance 
in their celebrated oblique order. In two parallel and heavy 
lines the Prussians are formed, still masked by the low hills, 
and facing, not toward the main line of the Austrians, but to the 
backward-thrown flank of Nadasti, so that the Prussian front 
really forms an angle of about thirty degrees with that of the 
Austrian main line. The former faces east-northeast; the latter 
due we.st. The cavalry are all formed — those who are to act 
under Ziethen in the grand assault on Nadasti's " potence ;" 
the guns are in readiness to be run forward into battery the in- 
stant the word is given, and now, noting the extreme strength 
of Nadasti's position, and that of Daun \v centre, the wil\' king 
determines on another move. 

Sending orders for all the cavalry of his left to trot out before 
the eyes of Lucchesi, and form as though for attack, the king 
waits the result. Long before half their numbers have deployed, 
■ Lucchesi, scared in good earnest, sends word to his chief: 
" Send me strong reinforcements of cavalry at once or I will not 
be responsible for the result ; " and, out of all patience, Prince 
Charles orders Daun to take all his cavalry from the left-centre 
and go up there and see what is the matter; and, disgustedly 
enough, Daun and his horsemen trot off, a three or four mile 
move in the wrong direction. Grimly Frederick watches them 
through his glass ; signals " ready " to his watching army, and 
" forward," as the great gap shows in the Austrian line. Just at 
one o'clock the golden moment has come. 

Fancy the amaze of all Austria when the next moment, in 
perfect ranks, in compact battalions or squadrons, all in their 
appropriate positions (what we soldiers call in echelon by bat- 
talion from the right), in the far-famed oblique order of Frederick, 
lapping beyond the left flank of Nadasti, supported by their 
heavy-metalled artillery, "Boomers" and all, over the knolls and 
ridges beyond Sagschiitz, comes the whole Prussian army. 
Three minutes bring the great guns into play ; three more the 



364 LEUtHEK. 

light, and then the battalions open fire. One grand assault of 
nearly 25,000 magnificently trained soldiery has burst upon 
Nadasti's left, and the rest of the Austrian army, for all it can 
no-y do to help him, might just as well be in' Breslau. Frederick 
himself has galloped down to superintend. 

This oblique order is something that ought to be e.'^lained 
right here. Suppose four battalions to be drawn up on the same 
straight line, elbow to elbow. Now to advance " in echelon 
from the right," as practised by Frederick the Great, the right 
battalion marches straight to the front. As soon as it has gone 
fifty paces, the next battalion starts ; the third " standing fast " 
until the second has gone its fifty paces, and so on until we have 
the four battalions moving to the front something like a pair of 
stairs, each one fifty paces behind the line of the other. Now 
instead of fifty steps, the distance might be made a hundred, or, 
instead of a hundred, the number of steps it took to pace off the 
front of a battalion, and the interval between it and the next in 
line, say three hundred and twenty paces. In this last-named 
case the " tread " or top of each step would be equal to its 
height, and, having our battalions in this shape, it is plain that 
each at the same instant could wheel to its own right, to its own 
left, or halt, face about, and open fire direct to its new front with- 
out danger of hitting any other of the comrade battalions. 
Now, instead of confining the move to a little brigade of four 
battalions, conceive the whole Prussian line, each battalion, 
battery and squadrbn in its appropriate place, executing this 
beautiful manoeuvre, and you have just what Frederick played 
on overwhelmed Nadasti at Leuthen. With only " fifty-pace " 
distance, beginning with the right, he launched in his superb and 
compact army; then when the batteries, battalions and squadrons, 
which had begun the move, had got well out beyond Nadasti's 
extreme left, with one simultaneous impulse, this right division 
made a half wheel to the left, and Nadasti was enveloped in an 
arc of flame and smoke. 

Nadasti is a gallant fellow though, and, seeing well wliat is 
coming, hurls in all his cavalry at headlong charge on Ziethen's 
flank, now out in the air down beyond Sagschiitz, and the attack 



THE AUSTRIAN LEFT WING IN DISORDER. 3(55 

is SO spirited that but for the steady fire of their supporting in- 
fantry the hussars would be completely overthrown ; as it is, 
they get time to rally, charge in turn, and then, getting the 
better of the Austrians, chase them well home around Nadasti's 
left flank, and Nadasti is now too hard pressed all along his 
front and his retired flank to help his horsemen any further. 
Here, of course, the Prussians are in overpowering numbers. 
" The Boomers " play havoc with the Croats in that thick copse, 
and before the firm, steady, sweeping advance of the Prussian 
infantry no stand can be made. Up on his right the oblique 
advance has burst through Nadasti's line between the wood and 
Leuthen, and the luckless guardians of his extreme left are cut 
off, a tumultuous retreat begins, and at two o'clock the Austrian 
left wing is tumbling back in utter disorder upon or back of its 
centre. 

Daun with his misled cavalry comes tearing back at this 
juncture, but he cannot make headway or charge through a 
surging tide of his own people. Brigades and battalions come 
down at double-quick, or the run, from behind Leuthen ; but they 
arrive " blown " and disordered, are swept into the sea of their 
huddling and bewildered comrades ; for, all the time, steadily, 
remorselessly, fatally, the serried lines of Prussia are sweeping 
northeastward up the ridge, halting by battalion and firing with 
the precision of machinery, then sweeping on again; and all the 
time old Ziethen is whirling his hussars around the outskirts of 
the sheep-like droves, taking whole battalions prisoners at a 
time, until at half-past two, the hitherto resistless advance butts 
up against the walls of Leuthen. Then comes a pause. 
Crammed with musketeers and light guns that Prince Charles 
has been frantically urging into position there, and on the ridge 
behind it, Leuthen becomes for the while a little fortress, a rock 
on which the Prussian battalions have to hammer a full hour 
before it is shattered under their blows. 

But it gives Austria a chance to breathe. Daun and Nadasti 
labor like heroes to bring order out of chaos now, and check the 
retreat. Resting its right on Leuthen, a new line is formed ex- 
tending off towards the southeast nearly to the valley of the 
24 



366 LEUTHEN. 

Schvveidnitz Water, but its left is " out in the air," and Ziethen 
chops at it with his sabres, splintering and shaving away until, 
little by little, that line is dwindling in toward Leuthen — Leuthen 
still the stormy vortex of the battle. 

Lucchesi, too, by this time has been making up his mind to 
do something, and changes front forward on his left, so as to 
have his line sticking out to the northwest, resting somewhere 
on the highway, also "in the air;" and at this flank those vul- 
tures of cuirassiers and the light cavalry of the left remorse- 
lessly peck, dribbling it away, as it went on the other end of the 
line. 

But the centre is still a rock. All around Leuthen the fight- 
ing is terrible. The church and the walled church-yard for a 
long hour resist all efforts, all blows. "The Boomers" hammer 
the walls into chips ; and then in hand-to-hand fashion the 
guards and linesmen rush in, and the bayonet does the work. 
So hard is the struggle here, and so desperate are the chances, 
that the king orders in the reserve, till this moment " refused " 
at Radaxdorf, o hamlet just over the Borne ridge; and as the 
fresh battalioPiT come sweeping across the low ground south of 
the highway, Lucchesi at last fancies his hour of vengeance has 
come. He has a strong corps of cavalry which has been of no 
use in the 7ne/ee around Leuthen. Now he sees a chance to 
swoop down on the flank of those reserve battalions. It is 
open over towards the " Scheuberg," the Borne ridge; nothing 
is to be seen at the moment, so with fervent impulse, with 
several thousand fresh horsemen, in he goes — to his death. 

He might have known that such a master as Frederick would 
never have left that flank defenceless ; a few squadrons thrown 
forward to peep behind the Borne ridge would have told him the 
truth — that there, in ambush, lay Driesen with the reserve cav- 
alry of the Prussian army, and Driesen's orders are to guard the 
flank of the infantry when it goes in, and nothing else. 

Instead of meeting him with counter charge and driving him 
back, Driesen does far better. He lets Lucchesi rush past his 
covert, then — up rise his squadrons to the crest, shake free their 
reins, dig spurs to chargers' ribs, and down the slope they go 



UTTER ROUT OF THE AUSTRIANS. 367 

upon Lucchesi's rear. He is trapped. In ten minutes he him- 
self Hes sabred and hoof-trampled to death. Dismay spreads 
through his entire wing. His left reels back before the Prussian 
reserve; his right is whirled off the field by Driesen's imme- 
diate rush upon them ; they drift away back toward Lissa. And 
now, right gone — left gone — what use to hold Leuthen? Back 
go Charles, Daun, Nadasti, and with them all Austria, three miles 
back to Saara, and here, just at sunset, the last stand is made — 
a stand so weak, so tottering, as almost to be pitiful. It melts 
away before the first attack of the leading Prussian division ; and 
the proud, boastful array of Austria is in full retreat before the dis- 
dained Potsdam barrack guard. Four bridges cross the Schweid- 
nitz water towards Breslau, and for hours these are jammed with 
disorderly fugitives — rank, regiments, all forgotten. It is a rush 
for the sheltering walls of the distant city. 

With Ziethen spurring behind them in vigorous pursuit, well 
may they flee. The Prussian infantry are halted in line at Saara. 
Strong guards are posted over the prisoners and plunder back 
on the battle-field; and King Frederick, as is his custom, rides 
among his battalions to praise or censure, as need be. Chief of 
the infantry of the right wing is the General Moritz, of Dessau, 
who has been simply superb to-day. Ever since Kolin, he has 
been burning for an opportunity of retrieving the ill-fortune that 
there attended him. Ziethen, Driesen, Ratzow, have all been 
daring and conspicuous; but the king singles out Moritz of Des- 
sau, and calls to him in hearty commendation, "Well done! I 
congratulate you, Field-Marshal ; " and the emphasis on the last 
word carries glad tidings to the soldier, for no promotion is so 
dear as that won upon the field of battle. 

Then Frederick pushes ahead through the darkness to Lissa, 
down by the Schweidnitz water, only a few miles away. In the 
village, the small brigade that accompanies him stirs up a number 
of skulking Croats and stragglers in the outhouses and village 
taverns, and a fight breaks out in the darkness. The sound of 
musketry comes floating back through the still night air to the 
wearied footmen at Saara, and knowing their king to be ahead 
there, fhey resume their arms and trudge along to join him, 



368 LEUTHEN 

singing solemn hymns of praise as they march, and so, make 
their soldier bivouac around Lissa, miles beyond the field they 
had won. 

Of all Frederick's victories, Leuthen was the most decisive. 
He says, and with good reason, that had there been two hours 
more of daylight, he could have utterly annihilated the Austrian 
army. As it was, his 30,000 had attacked and utterly routed 
80,000 in a strong position. No finer tactical battle had ever 
been fought: 3,000 Austrians were left dead on the field, 12,000 
were taken prisoners on the day of battle, and 9,000 more within 
the next few days; 116 cannon fell into his hands, and fifty-one 
flags and standards. Against these, the losses of Frederick were 
1,141 killed, 5,1 18 wounded. Twelve days after Leuthen he had 
re-conquered Breslau, with all its arms, stores and trophies. Si- 
lesia was his again, and 17,000 more prisoners of war. 

As for the Empress of Austria, in her utter chagrin at these 
terrible losses, she relieved Prince Charles of his command and 
restored Daun to his former high position. Ten years before, 
Prince Charles had been termed one of the finest generals of the 
day; but in five pitched battles he had been beaten by Frederick, 
and war had lost its attractions for him. 

All Silesia being once more safely won to Prussia, and it being 
now mid-winter, the king and his army proceeded to make them- 
selves comfortable in and around Breslau, where they remained 
until the opening of the third campaign in the following spring. 



KUNERSDORF. 




1759 

FTER his great victory of Leuthen, as we have 
seen, King Frederick spent the winter in Breslau. 
Early in the spring, however, he was again in the 
«-7 field. His forces proved too weak for those of his 
^ adversary, Daun, who, as second in command, was 
^^ whipped at Leuthen even whilst protesting against 
the battle. In all the fighting that followed, in all 
his combinations, Frederick thcGreat had no such 
antagonist as this gallant and loyal general: gal- 
lant, because he was ever ready to be "foremost in the fray;" 
loyal because, whether superseded in command or bemg chiet 
his best efforts went to the cause of his country, and many and 
many a brilliant and skillful battle did he fight for her. Daun 
drove Frederick out of Moravia, which the latter had mvaded, 
but could do nothing further. That in itself was an achievement. 
But meantime, the vast forces of the Russians had swept down 
from the northeast. Frederick was compelled to meet them, and 
in August he fought and won the bloodiest and most destructive 
battle of the Seven Years' War— that of Zorndorf 

Space compels us to limit the description of our battles to those 
which were most decisive or characteristic in a campaign, and Zorn- 
dorf lacked the brilliancy of manoeuvre which so distinguished 
many or most of the great engagements between Frederick and 
his legions of enemies. It lasted for several days ; was fought 
among bogs and morasses, and in a country so broken as to cramp 
the movements of the cavalry. The Russians fought with stolid 
desperation ; the Prussians with determined valor ; and the slaugh- 
ter on both sides was appalling. Frederick won from sheer per- 

(369) 



370 KUNERSDORF. 

sistency, though this sanguinary battle was never one on which 
he prided himself. As its result, the Russians were compelled 
to fall back beyond the frontier of Poland. 

Then the king turned once again upon the Austrians in 
Saxony, driving them before him steadily, until that brilliant 
Daun turned upon him with the sudden leap of a skilled fencer — 
actually took him by surprise, and gave the Prussians a sound and 
severe thrashing at Hochkirch before they had time to recover 
from their astonishment. Frederick rallied, and soon resumed 
his steady drive of the enemy, but this third campaign concluded 
with but trivial advantage for the Prussians. 

And now we come to the Fourth Campaign, and the darkest 
hours of Frederick and his gallant nation. We followed him to 
his greatest triumph at Leuthen. Let us see how he met and 
bore his deepest humiliation. It reached him at Kunersdorf 

The Russians had routed the Prussian General Wedel at Ziil- 
lichau on July 23d, and Frederick had to make all speed to his 
assistance. On the west, the Duke of Brunswick won a gallant 
fight at Minden, August ist, badly whipping the French; and if 
Frederick could but retrieve the losses sustained at the hands of 
the Russians during the spring and summer, the Fourth Cam- 
paign would be in his hands. He was hopeful and buoyant. He 
had this spring introduced to the military world the first battery 
of " horse artillery," and he was delighted with the new arm, which 
he destined to accompany his cavalry. Mounted artillery was 
already an old story, and the reader must distinguish between the 
two. In the latter, the drivers ride the "near" horse of each 
team, but the cannoneers walk or run alongside the gun carriages; 
and though occasionally allowed to ride on the ammunition chests, 
their movements are like those of foot troops, and mounted bat- 
teries could only accompany infantry. Not so with this new arm 
of Frederick's. He had thought it out in the previous year, 1758. 
Now in the spring of '59 he put it into practice. With guns and 
carriages made very light, but of the best material for strength, 
with the cannoneers galloping along after their guns, he aston- 
ished the enemy with a little four-gun, six-pounder battery that 
spun over hill and dale, wherever horses could go. Next year 



FRANKFORT-ON-THE-ODER SEIZED. '371 

Austria imitated him ; then all Europe, though only very grad- 
ually. 

And now while Frederick with his new toy was watching Daun, 
there came the startling news that the Russians under Soltikoff 
had terribly defeated Wedel at Ziillichau — or, as others call it, 
Kay — and Palzig ; next, that Soltikoff was marching on Frank- 
fort-on-the-Oder. Could he reach and take that city, he would 
be within sixty miles of Berlin. With all speed Frederick starts 
to aid Wedel. Disastrous as is the news he is nothing daunted. 
But on the last day of July the Russians seize the defenceless 
city ; there they are joined by an Austrian corps — i8,ooo strong, 
under Loudon; and, hurry though he may, Frederick comes too 
late. 

The Oder here runs nearly north. The little city of Frank- 
fort, then containing some 12,000 inhabitants, lies on the west 
bank, a single bridge of stone connecting it with the east side. 
West of the river the ground is hilly and broken ; east of it, from 
opposite Frankfort down to Goritz, fifteen miles to the north, it 
23 marshy and well-nigh impassable for three or four miles out ; 
then, nearly on a straight line north and south, there runs from 
Goritz to Schwetig, four miles above Frankfort, a range of heights. 
The river makes a bow-like sweep of these eighteen miles — a flat 
arch with the concavity to the east, and the range of heights along 
the string. Close under the heights, draining the eastern edge of 
the marsh, crawls a lazy, murky stream ; it makes a sharp elbow 
about four miles out, north of east of Frankfort, breaks through the 
line of heights from the southeast, and if we follow it out a few 
miles through the thick woods in that direction, we find it drain- 
ing a chain of muddy little ponds. This dirty string of puddles" 
is to play the mischief with Frederick's plans, and may as well be 
understood; and its outlet — with miry bottom and oozy banks — 
the Hiinerfleiss (Hen Floss) is to give his artillery great annoyance. 

Now just where this Hiinerfleiss breaks through the ridge, the 
ridge itself turns sharply westward and makes for the Oder, just 
about four miles away ; and we have or had then (for the wind 
and rains have almost blown and washed away the topography of 
this famous battle-ground) a chain of knolls, never more than a 



372 , KUNERSDORF. 

mile across, and this chain was called "the heights of Kuners-. 
dorf," from the little village that nestled under the shelter of the 
easternmost knoll — the Miihlberg, or Mill Hill. Through Ku- 
nersdorf ran the high road to the east, along which the Russians 
had come. The road passed through a depression in the ridge 
west of the Mill Hill, then swept round to the west and followed 
the base of the spur to the bridge across the Oder. West of the 
Mill Hill came another and longer knoll — the Spitzberg; then 
a deep valley or depression through which the Oder must have 
flowed in days gone by, as, indeed, it must have washed its way 
through these other depressions or channels — the Kuh Grund 
(Cow Hollow) and Tiefe Weg (Deep Way); but this deep and 
clearly defined cut between the Spitzberg and the Judenberg 
(Jew Hill), a cut not unlike some of our western caiions, is the 
most important of all — Hohle Grund (Big Hollow, some call it); 
London s Hollow, people called it for years afterwards, and with 
reason ! It was through there that Loudon, the Austrian, with 
his unexpected 18,000, swept down upon the wearied flank of 
Prussia's army and turned the tide of the furious fight at Ku- 
nersdorf 

These three commanding knolls even then were no more than 
150 feet in height, while the general elevation was about lOO. 
All north of the chain, remember, is marsh and ooze except the 
narrow bench along which runs the high-road; and parallel with 
this high-road is a sluggish canal-like drain that lazily flows 
into the Hiinerfleiss, and with it is lost in the swamps toward 
Goritz. 

Just east of the Oder and north of the high road is a suburb, 
■ protected from the encroachments of the stream by a stout em- 
bankment, and called, from the earthwork to which it owed its 
existence, the Dam Suburb; and out east of this patch of houses 
were a few acres of dry ground, separated from the chain of knolls 
by that muddy canal. The sunken road of Ohain, says Hugo, 
was fatal to Napoleon and to Milhaud's cuirassiers at Waterloo 
years afterwards, because it could not be seen, and La Coste, the 
peasant guide, shook his head when asked if there were any ob- 
.struction up that apparently smooth slope of Mont St. Jean. This 



MISTAKEN TACTICS OF AUSTRIA AND RUSSIA. 373 

canal was fatal to Frederick because he could see it in part, and 
his peasant guide shook his head when asked if there were any 
means of crossing it from the north. Loudon's I8,CX30 lay out 
there on that patch of dry ground, and the peasant did not know 
that in one night, with logs, stakes, barn-beams, stones and rub- 
bish, they and the Russians had bridged it opposite the Big 
Hollow; but they had, and it well-nigh ruined Prussia. 

East, around the slopes of the Mill Hill and south, along those 
of this range of knolls, lay an open valley, perhaps half a mile 
in width. Then came a belt of thick, tangled woods clear over 
to, and beyond the ponds of the Hiinerfleiss — woods so impene- 
trable that from the heights themselves they masked and hid all 
movements that might be going on ; yet so boggy and miry was 
the ground all through there that the Russians seem to have 
considered it impracticable for the passage of troops; even their 
restless and hardy Cossacks never prodded its thickets with their 
lances. Their whole time was taken up plundering the villages 
along the Oder. 

Such was the ground over which Russia and Austria were to 
grapple with Frederick the Great; and yet Russia and Austria 
had not the faintest idea that the grapple would come when and 
as it did. Well they knew that Frederick would make all speed 
from the west to rescue Frankfort; and, not deeming the city 
defensible, it was their idea to let him come in, to retire before 
him to the east side; entice him across until he had the Oder 
behind him ; get him between the heights of Kunersdorf, the flat 
patch near the Dam Suburb, the embankments of the Oder; tempt 
him to attack the heights, then fall upon and annihilate him. 

On Wednesday, August 8th, a gay party of Russian and 
Austrian generals had gathered at the cosy inn of Fischers 
Milhle, some distance out beyond the western suburbs of Frank- 
fort ; dinner had been ordered, a jolly time was to be had, when 
in came the miller's boy all panic and perspiration, just able to 
gasp out "Prussian hussars!" The convivial bout broke up 
in wild haste and confusion; the officers mounted in all haste 
and went scurrying back to Frankfort, sharph' chased by the 
wiry swordsmen of Seidlitz, that prince of light cavalry soldiersi 



374 KUNERSDORF. 

King Frederick has arrived at the Oder and is out recon- 
noitring. His main body is at Lebus, six miles down stream, 
north of Frankfort. He has but 40,000 men all told, and the 
Russo-Austrian army has 90,000 — Leuthen figures over again, 
but the ground is far different. The old war-dog knows they 
will not come out to attack him, that he must be the assailant; 
and with such odds against him he can have little hope. He 
sees, too, that they have made no attempt to fortify Frankfort. 
He readily divines their intention of enticing him across there. 
He studies the distant heights of Kunersdorf through his glass, 
and sees their redoubts and earthworks bristling with guns. 
He needs more men, sends couriers to General Finck, and mean- 
time goes on quietly with his preparations for crossing. 

Soltikoff and Loudon now march all their troops, except a 
small garrison for Frankfort, over to the east side. Soltikoff 
takes post at Kunersdorf at the east, Loudon in front of the 
Dam town at the west. The Russians swarm along the heights, 
which on both faces, north and south, are fortified with parapet 
and ditch ; while at intervals heavy redoubts are thrown up. 
Nearly two hundred pieces of artillery are distributed along that 
formidable range, whose western end reaches the banks of the 
Oder, three-quarters of a mile south of that one bridge over 
which Frededck is expected, nay, invited to come. 

Frederick does nothing of the kind. Finck with 10,000 men 
joins him on the loth of August, at Reitwein, opposite Goritz. 
That night, on two hastily prepared pontoon bridges, the Prus- 
sian artillery and infantry cross the Oder opposite Oetscher, a 
little hamlet a mile south of Goritz. The cavalry ford the 
stream at the shallows higher up. Not a sign of preparation 
had been visible at ilm river until after dark. Not an inkling 
did the allies get of what was going on. At four in the morning 
all are safely across and stretching away southward on the road 
along the bow-string line of heights already described; the 
heavy baggage is left under guard near Oetscher, and at one 
o'clock in the afternoon, to the utter amaze and consternation of 
Soltikoff, the Prussian army appears in magnificent order of bat- 
tle, not behind Frankfort as was expected — not marching blindly 



FREDERICK RECONNOITRES THE ENEMY'S POSITION. 375 

into the trap prepared for it under the guns of the Juden, Spitz 
and Muhlbergs, but off there to the northeast in the open 
country, between Leissow and Bischoffsee. Frederick has fooled 
them again. 

And now while all is excitement and consternation in the 
Russian cantonments along the heights, Frederick cautions his 
army to rest after its long march ; and taking with him but a 
small escort of hussars, rides forward to thoroughly reconnoitre 
the position of the enemy from this side. He has utterly con- 
founded them, it is true ; but he has executed a manoeuvre that 
would have completely unnerved a Washington Cabinet during 
the days of our civil war.- He has gone around behind the 
enemy, leaving the road open to his capital so short a distance 
away. He has thrown Finck with his division well forward to 
threaten the Mill Hill from the northeast; while his main army, 
40,000 strong, lies farther back in two ready lines, and calmly 
resting through the hot, sultry August afternoon ; sorely needing 
water and shade, but patient and loyal to their grim old leader. 
It has grown to be a delight to follow him, no matter where he 
may go. 

It is while out here studying the situation and riding to and 
fro on the heights of Trettin, that Frederick meets in the 
peasant who brings him a jug of cold spring water, the intelli- 
gent native on whose information he leans so much the next 
day. He can distinctly see the camp of Loudon over there at 
the Red Grange, back of Dam town. He can see the marshy 
alder-waste, and the murky little west branch of the Hen Floss 
that runs between the highway and the boggy flats; north of 
which lies the dry patch where Loudon is posted; and he asks 
that question of his guide to which allusion has been made: 
" If you wanted to get across from the camp of the Austrians to 
the Big Hollow there, or to the Judenberg, could you do it?" 

" No, your majesty. The Hen Floss is not fordable, nor the 
alder-waste beyond ; you have to go way round — back through 
Dam town," and though the king looks sharply at him and 
repeats with emphasis his question., the peasant sticks to his 
assertion, and honestly believes it. 



376 KUNERSDORF. 

Even now Frederick is not fully satisfied. He cannot con» 
ceive it possible, that, between the corps of Loudon and the 
army of Soltikoff, there should be no direct means of communi- 
cation. On a bee-line, they lie not more than two miles apart — 
not more than one from Loudon's nearest flank to the slopes of 
the Judenberg. Even admitting that he was expected to come 
no other way than across the bridge from Frankfort, Frederick 
feels sure that there ought to be some causeway through the 
alder-waste — some bridge across the Hen Floss. So he calls up 
Major Linden, whose regiment had long been posted at Frankfort 
some little time before, and who had hunted all over this ground. 
The major answers as confidently as the peasant, and Frederick, 
satisfied at last as evening lowers, rides back to Bischoffsee to 
make his dispositions for the morrow. That night the western 
sky is red with the glare of conflagrations. In revenge for being 
outwitted perhaps, but for no good and sufficient reason, the 
Russians are burning tlie defenceless villages, and thousands 
of homeless creatures are wandering, weeping through the dark- 
ness, seeking over pathways lighted only by the flames of their 
own roofs, some refuge from ' the wrath to come. Kunersdorf 
and other outlying hamlets lie in ashes before midnight; Schwetig 
and Reipzig go down before the Cossack torches on the morrow, 
but meanwhile the Prussian army sleeps. 

All night long, upon the heights, the Russians are swarming 
to and fro, dragging guns into new positions to meet attack from 
the quarter so unexpectedly occupied by Frederick. All around 
the base of the Miihlberg, which stands nearest to the Prussian 
line, a thick abatis has been constructed. The redoubts upon 
its crest are very strong, and if Frederick could but attack from 
the northeast and sweep over that height, he from its summit 
might " enfilade " the entire Russian line ; perhaps roll them up 
on the centre as he did the Austrians at Leuthen. 

On the night of August iith, the Russian lines, three miles 
long, stuck out northeastwardly towards him. His army was 
posted at right angles to them, facing southwest, for all the 
world like the cross to a T I ^^d< studying the situation from 
maps and histories, one cannot help wondering why he did not 



THE PRUSSIANS AGAIN ON THE MARCH. 377 

attack that exposed flank from that very direction. True : the 
east branch of the Hen Floss lay before the advance of Finck's 
division, but it could be crossed. He himself, with all the 
main body, did cross it higher up. The advantage he would 
have gained is apparently immense, but he adopted an entirely 
different plan, and probably knew what he was about, even if 
the move seem incomprehensible to the student of to-day. 

At three o'clock Sunday morning, August I2th, 1759, the Prus- 
sian army is again in march. Finck with 12,000 men in strong 
formation, sweeps down almost to the east bank of the Hen Floss, 
quite within long range of the guns on the Miihlberg, and there 
he halts, and begins making apparent dispositions for attack. 
His orders are to induce the Russians to believe that the grand 
assault is to come from there. He runs forward two strong 
field-batteries ; he and his generals ride forward making ostenta- 
tious reconnoissance of the heights ; the Russians bang away at 
them with their field-guns in the redoubts, and they fall back for 
shelter but make no reply. For hours they keep the Muscovites 
on tenter-hooks of expectation, always threatening, never exe- 
cuting a charge. 

Meantime, what has become of Frederick ? Even as he keeps 
up this aggravating by-play, Finck is constantly watching the 
skirt of the woods beyond the valley south of the chain of 
knolls. Six— seven o'clock come, and still no sign of soldiery 
in that quarter. Finck is getting alarmed and impatient. 

At three a. m., when Frederick with his main army moved off 
into the woods towards the high road that led to Reppen and the 
east, he had no idea of the intricacies of the way— pools, bogs, 
marshy rivulets, thickets, underbrush, tangled copsewood— every- 
thing, in fact, that could impede the march of an army, stood in 
the path; yet he had made up his mind and was determined to 
go ahead, lugging his guns with him. Even before Seidlitz with 
his leading hussars succeeds in reaching the Hen Floss, out of 
sight of the Russian advance posts, the artillerymen, time and 
again, have been compelled to unhitch, turn their carriages round 
by hand, work, and pry, and push them around all manner of 
boggy corners. The large guns, like the " Boomers " of Leuthen, 



378 KUNERSDORF. 

are drawn by twelve horses each, and are of immense bother. 
Frederick, after his talk with that Nimrod of a Major Linden who 
had ridden all over the country, thought he could be in the de- 
sired position by day-break ; but it is eight o'clock before his col- 
umns issue from the ooze and tangles of the boggy woods; and 
soon after eight the eagerly watching Russians on the heights 
detect the fact, that while the main attack may still come from 
the northeast, Frederick and his people are feeling around to- 
wards the south. The skirts of the woods along the low heights 
across the intervening open space are now brilliant with small 
bodies of gayly dressed hussars. Soon they can be seen all along 
that front from the Walckberg on the northeast, across the Klos- 
terberg — a wooded crest lower than the heights of Kunersdorf, 
but parallel to them and stretching southwestward, intersected 
about the middle by the road to Reppen. Beyond the road, on 
both sides, in fact, are thick woods ; and in these woods, close to 
their edge around the Muhlberg, Frederick is running up his 
heavy guns. Nine o'clock comes, and ten, and eleven, of this hot 
August Sunday; and still he is not ready. Still the first line of 
battle (with Seidlitz to the extreme left (the west), facing the great 
Spitzberg; and Prince Eugene, of Wurtemberg, on the right, lap- 
ping round so as to join hands with Finck) waits for the comple- 
tion of the batteries and for the second line to get straightened out 
behind them. The main army of the Prussians is facing north- 
west. It has marched completely around the position of the 
Russians on the heights, and the attack is to come from the very 
last quarter the latter expected. Eager to find out what may be 
going on behind that veil of light cavalry along the Klosterberg, 
some inquisitive Cossacks come loping out on their shaggy ponies 
and prying into the shrubbery. A roar from a light battery and 
a whizzing shower of grape stretches some of their number on 
the ground, and scatters the rest to cover. Still it is argued that 
only a few light guns and a cavalry scouting detachment can have 
worked around there through that thicket; and once more Solti- 
koff gazes nervously northeastward. Much of his cavalry and 
the fine Austrian grenadiers are still in reserve over there with 
Loudon at the Red Grange. All goes well — if slowly — with the 



FREDERICK STORMS THE MUHLBERG. 379 

Prussian lines, only Seidlitz does not like the looks of that Big 
Hollow off to his left-front. It is beyond his flank; he has not 
force enough to cover it; he cannot see into or through it from 
the little Spitzberg where he is posted, but he shrugs his shoul- 
ders and determines to make the best of it. At eleven o'clock 
the lines of Frederick envelop the Muhlberg like a great shep- 
herd's crook, with Seidlitz at the handle, Eugene at the shank, 
and Finck at the curving tip. Frederick is with Eugene, hopeful, 
energetic as ever. He, at last, gets sixty guns into battery (there 
are seventy Russian guns on the Muhlberg alone), and just at 
half-past eleven, with one simultaneous crash and boom they open 
on the heights. Instantly Soltikoff sees that he is enveloped; 
but so strong, so confident is he in his chosen position that it 
makes no odds to him. His gunners spring to work, and for an 
hour there rages the fiercest, loudest cannonade of the Seven 
Years' War, with one exception — Torgau in the following year, 
Two of Frederick's batteries posted on the Walckberg have 
open d in enfilading fire on the lines of the opposite Muhlberg, 
and these guns are doing great execution, their shot leaping along 
the parapets, springing from battery to battery, driving the gun- 
ners to shelter, and knocking gun-carriages into toothpicks. It 
is magnificent practice, and Soltikoff rages in his heart when he 
sees that he has not a redoubt or field-work so built as to permit 
him to respond to those particular guns. By the artillery fire 
alone, the Russians manning the shoulder of the Muhlberg are 
so hard hit that they fail to serve their guns with any care, and 
after a brief half hour of this work Frederick determines on an 
assault. Sending word to Finck to press vigorously from the 
north, he orders forward eight pet battalions — Prussian grena- 
diers, and now comes the grandest sight of Kunersdorf 

"Steady as planets," marching with a precision and accuracy 
that would have been applauded at Potsdam, these grand veterans 
sweep forward in charging column; "steady as planets" they 
descend the slopes, and for a few moments are sheltered from di- 
rect fire as they cross the hollow; then they breast the Miihl^ 
berg — their alignment never wavers. Up they go till the tall, 
pointed grenadier caps rise above the crests; then despite the 



380 KUNERSDORF. 

fury of fire that greets them, forward they press squarely to the 
muzzles of the Russian guns; one grand volley they give, then 
in with the bayonet; and ten times their numbers of Muscovites 
reel, stagger, break and run before them. Despite all their offi- 
cers can do, the guardians of the Miihlberg are whirling back in 
panic — in terror — before these eight battalions of six-footers. 
They make no stand at all. In ten glorious, never-to-be-forgotten 
minutes the Miihlberg, with its redoubts, lines, batteries, its seven- 
ty-two guns, its commanding, enfilading position, all are Prussia's. 

Then " forward " is the word along the whole line. Seidlitz and 
Eugene lead in their divisions and strive in vain to cross arms with 
the panic-stricken Russians. No use. Soltikoff 's army has surged 
back from the lines from the shoulder of the Miihlberg as far 
southwest as Kunersdorf and its hollow, and it is only one o'clock. 

Now, now if the guns can only be run up here, all is won. 
The Russian guns left on the Miihlberg are useless to the 
victors since they have no ammunition to fit them, and little of 
the enemy's ammunition has been left. Finck strives in vain to 
get his guns across the Hen Floss, but there are only little 
rickety foot bridges (perhaps this may have been Frederick's 
reason for departing from his Leuthen tactics), and over an hour 
is consumed in patching up a suitable crossing. Then the guns 
that ought to have been down on Ziethen's left by this time, are 
hopelessly stuck in the mud a mile behind him, and the infantry 
of the second line that ought to be there to support the grand 
advance, are tugging at the muddy wheels, hauling at the strain- 
ing ropes, and in the wild hour of triumph that succeeds the 
capture of that citadel of a Mill Hill, Frederick the Great is 
passing through the crisis of his bloody and desperate campaign. 
He knows it, and is powerless to help it. His assaulting force 
has hurled back thrice its weight in Russians. All that is 
needed now is a sweeping artillery fire upon the chain of knolls, 
then all those solid lines and masses near the Big Hollow must 
go. They will be driven helter-skelter down the slopes towards 
the morass, or the Oder, or else huddled within the walls of 
Dam town. Oh, for the guns ! With them victory is in his 
grasp. Without them it is doubtful. 



SOLTIKOFF RALLIES ItlS RUSSIANS. 381 

In all that fatal hour only four light guns, Tempelhof's, can 
be dragged to the crest. They are too few, too feeble, and now 
it is too late. The beaten Russians have rallied. 

With victory presumably in his grasp at one o'clock. King 
Frederick sends his jubilant despatch by courier to Berlin. 
Tempelhof, however, has only one hundred shot, and these are 
soon gone — then, with vast labor, their twelve horses straining 
every muscle, men and drivers working like horses, some few of 
the heavy guns are slowly and painfully dragged to the height ; 
but now, in fresh brigades and divisions, Soltikoff sends his 
reserves in eastward along the chain, while his erstwhile panic- 
stricken left reforms and comes up in support. Now, indeed, is 
Kunersdorf a furious battle. Seidlitz gets his horsemen out of 
the way, and wheels the infantry of his left wing around to face 
Kunersdorf in ashes, and the swarming, charging Russians now 
coming at him through the Kuh Grund. Their lines are deep and 
doubled and massive ; the crash of their volleys is ominous, and 
the clash of steel when the bayonets cross in the desperate hand- 
to-hand fight that ensues, is far more sullen and deadly than the 
rattle of the sabres in cavalry onset. For some time, in the 
surging to and fro, 'tis impossible to say which side will prevail ; 
but presently some of Finck's eager footmen who have scaled 
the slopes from the northeast, come charging down in support, 
and, once again, vehemently pursued this time, the Russians 
break and scatter beyond Kunersdorf At three in the after- 
noon, panting, exhausted, victorious, captors of the heights east 
of Kunersdorf, and i8o cannon, the Prussians are triumphant; 
but — not a man has had a drink of water for twelve hours. 
They have been charging, fighting, climbing, shooting and stab- 
bing, exhausting work, all of it, for three straight hours, and 
men cannot stand everything. Dense masses of Russians are 
still over there on the Judenberg ; dense masses down on the 
roadway under the heights, and Soltikoff is using every effort 
to straighten them out. Officers are shouting, swearing, beating 
with their swords, forcing the patient Muscovite soldiery into 
ranks, and ere long they will be on the heights again. 

It is at. this stage of the battle that some of Frederick's lead^ 
25 



382 KUNERSDORF. 

ing generals, notably Finck and even Seidlitz, urge the king to 
let well enough alone ; to attack no more that day, but to rest 
content with winning i8o cannon and the Miihlberg. His men 
are fearfully tired, and the generals respectfully urge that he 
should now draw off to the Miihlberg itself, plant his batteries, 
get up his guns and the reserves of his second line still out there 
in the woods, and give the army its needed rest. But Frederick's 
blood is up. " Strike while the iron is hot," he argues. He 
orders up the entire left wing, as yet unengaged, and forms it for 
attack opposite the Great Spitzberg, where heavy batteries are 
planted. The wing comes up as ordered, furiously assaults the 
batteries and redoubts of this formidable knoll, but with heavy 
losses it is repulsed and driven back down the slope. Then the 
grape and canister of the Russian guns rake huge lanes througli 
the ranks, and, unable to stand against it, they fall back in fair 
order towards the woods again. Frederick is in misery at this 
repulse. He will not give up, however. He again calls on his 
cavalry and rides up to Seidlitz. " Try it you, then, Seidlitz : 
you saved us at Zorndorf," and obediently the brave old hussar 
leads in his dashing squadrons. The charge is superb but well- 
nigh desperate. Russian and Austrian guns mow down the 
troopers. Seidlitz himself is woUnded and borne off the field; 
then, dazed and irresolute for want of a leader, the cavalry break, 
whirl aimlessly about the field a few moments, raked and shat- 
tered by the incessant discharges from the heights ; and at last 
they, too, bolt for the rear. Once fairly started, there is no stop- 
ping them till far from the field. 

And now Frederick's chances are indeed desperate. Em- 
boldened by their successful repulse of these two spirited attacks, 
the Russians at Great Spitzberg withstand with dauntless front 
these vehement charges led by the king in person. He cannot 
take that battery on the western heights. His men are dropping 
around him by scores. Two horses have been killed under him. 
His uniform is torn by bullets, yet he is unhurt. He rides 
hither and thither, striving to make his people stand against the 
now rapidly encircling m.isses of the Russians, but in vain. 
Worn, exhausted, parched with thirst, the Prussian lines are 



FREDERICK'S ARMY PRACTICALL\ ANNIHILATED. 383 

drifting back towards Kunersdorf, and in so doing, they leave 
behind them the heights, the guns they had won and some of 
their own. Fresh battalions of Russians press them on their 
right from the north, and now, now issuing from that fateful 
Big Hollow, come Loudon's Austrian grenadiers. In superb 
array, fresh, vigorous, enthusiastic, they sweep eastward up the 
valley, strike the enfeebled flank of Frederick's line, and it 
crumbles to pieces. In vain Eugene with the cuirassiers rides 
round to the northeast and strives on Finck's side to break up 
the Russian columns pressing upon Frederick's line. The 
cuirassiers are mowed down before those ever ready guns and 
driven back. Then Puttkammer with the gallant hussars tries 
the same thing. He is killed and they are put to flight. It is 
no use, no use. 

Back of the Kuh Grund, Frederick makes one last deter- 
mined stand ; the lines not fifty yards apart, and blazing at 
one another with their musketry ; and now Loudon with all his 
eager cavalry trots out from that inexhaustible Big Hollow, and 
10,000 fresh horsemen come thundering forward on the stagger- 
ing line. Human endurance can bear no more. The valiant 
remnant of a valiant army breaks in dismay, and at six o'clock 
swarms eastward in utter disorder — in utter rout. Frederick 
rides among them exhorting, commanding, beseeching; all in 
vain. He prays for death ; he longs to lie there on the field of 
his bitter humiliation. A little squadron of hussars rescues him 
from swarming bands of Cossacks, and staff-ofiRcers seize his rein 
and lead him from the ground. At the banks of the Hen Floss, 
they pass battery after battery abandoned to the enemy, they 
pass struggling, crowding fugitives, but his officers never let him 
stop. They lead their heart-broken king back to Oetscher, and 
there at the bridges Frederick can rally but three thousand of 
his men. His army is practically annihilated. 

That night in his despair Frederick writes to the Count 
Finckenstein at Berlin : " The consequences of this battle will 
be worse than the battle itself I have no resources more ; and 
to confess the truth, I hold all for lost. I will not survive the 
destruction of my country. Farewell forever." 



384 KUNERsnORF. 

Well might he be despondent. Between Oetscher and the 
southern hamlet of Bischoffsee, where he had so confidently 
bivouacked the previous night, the whole country was covered 
by stragglers of his proud army, now relentlessly pursued and 
lanced by those bloody Cossacks. His guns were all gone — 
165 of them — left on the hither bank of that fatal Hiinerfleias. 
Flags and standards without number dropped upon the field ; 
his grand cuirassiers crushed and virtually unhorsed, so many of 
their chargers had been killed ; his dashing hussars well-nigh 
exterminated ; Seidlitz wounded, Puttkammer slain ; his stately 
grenadiers reduced from a superb division to a battered regiment. 
It was the blackest day Prussia had ever known. No wonder 
consternation and dismay reigned in Berlin when that fifth 
courier arrived. No wonder Frederick himself broke down and 
temporarily turned over chief command to Finck. They got him 
across the Oder to Reitwein on the following day, and there 
some 23,000 of his 50,000 rallied to the colors, but so broken 
and dispirited, shorn of arms, equipments, artillery, horses and 
leaders, that only the peerless discipline of the Prussian soldier 
kept them from further flight. 

But Russia and Austria failed to follow up their great advan- 
tage. They had lost in this desperate and furious battle 18,000 
men in killed and wounded. Prussia had left 6,000 dead, and 
■ 15,000 wounded upon the field, and vigorous pursuit would have 
scattered the remnant of the army to the four winds. So con- 
fident was Frederick that pursuit would come, that he caused 
the queen and court to abandon Berlin, and make hasty flight 
to Magdeburg. But the second, then the third day passed by. 
Only a few marauding Cossacks ventured westward from Frank- 
fort, and Frederick, standing by his resting army, took heart of 
grace, resumed command on the 17th, and ordered up artillery 
and supplies from Berlin. 

Soltikoff it seems was drunk with triumph if nothing else, and 
the ofiicers to whom he intrusted the pursuit got drunk with 
something else, if not with triumph. The former remained at 
Kunersdorf sending elated despatches to his imperial mistress, 
the tsarina, at St. Petersburg ; the latter dismounted from their 



AN UNFRUITFUL TRIUMPH. 3g5 

horses and held a symposium before setting forth for Reitvvein, 
and — never got any further. 

And thus it happened that what should have been one of the 
decisive battles of the world ; what could have been and would 
have been the death-blow to Frederick and to Prussia, was per- 
mitted to remain an unfruitful triumph — a valueless victory. 

Loudon the Austrian, who had so contributed to the victorj' 
itself, was powerless to act when it came to pursuit. Already, 
grievous jealousy had broken out in the Russian ranks, and 
robbed him of his due merit. His counsels were neglected, 
even snubbed ; and this worthy soldier was forced to look on 
and see the one great opportunity of giving the finishing stroke 
to the arch enemy of his country, utterly neglected. In the 
general paralysis which seized upon the enemies of Prussia after 
the blow at Kunersdorf, even the great Field-Marshal Daun was 
involved. He, with a large army, was only about eighty miles 
south of Frankfort — could easily have joined Soltikoff, or, inde- 
pendently, marched on Frederick ; but they seemed to be wait- 
ing for each other ; the golden moment passed by, and in six- 
weeks, despite the fearf>*l Wow of Kunersdorf, Frederick was 
himself again. 



TORGAU. 




1760. 



I HANKS to the inaction of his adversaries, 
Frederick the Great was enabled to assemble 
some 28,000 men. The Russians were afraid 
of him, and backed into Poland. There was 
a lack of cordiality between them and the 
Austrians after Kunersdorf, that was of ma- 
terial service to Prussia. But the king was 
destined to suffer another severe blow in this 
eventful fourth campaign. General Finck, with 11,000 men, was 
captured at Maxen in Saxony on November 21st, and, in the deso- 
late winter that followed, with an exhausted treasury and a well- 
nigh exhausted country, the indomitable monarch prepared for 
his fifth campaign. In the spring of 1760, he could muster all 
told, in all parts of his beleagured kingdom, only 90,000 men. 
Then Fouque with 8,000 men was captured in Silesia, and that 
bone of contention once more fell into Austrian hands. When 
autumn came, the gallant old soldier was well-nigh hounded to 
death. He was hemmed in on every side. The Austrians and 
Russians seized and sacked Berlin early in October ; the Swedes 
came down from Pomerania ; the Austrians under Loudon up 
from Silesia ; the French, who had attempted a forward move 
from the west, were fortunately easily disposed of in two sharp 
engagements, Einsdorf and Marburg; but Frederick was fairly 
in the toils, and, like a hunted lion, was well-nigh goaded to 
desperation. It was then that he turned like a flash on his old 
antagonist, that famous Field-Marshal Daun, and on November 
3d, just north of the Saxon frontier, won from him the great and 
(386) 



DAUN AND FREDERICK AGAIN MEASURE SWORDS. 387 

decisive battle of Torgau. Just when his fortunes were at their 
lowest ebb, he fought the fight and gained the victory that 
proved the turning point of the whole war. From this time on, 
all was triumph. 

Of Daun it is said, that though chief in command of the Aus- 
trian forces this year, he had lost something of his old energy 
and skill. Possibly it may be that by this time Frederick had 
fathomed all his methods and he could originate no more. Of 
Frederick himself it must be said, that in his extremity he resorted 
to devices as questionable, if not as criminal, as those of his auto- 
cratic old father in the recruitment of his armies. He had agents 
and crimps everywhere; and able-bodied men, young and old, 
were spirited away from home and off to the front before any- 
thing could be done to rescue them. Once there, the case was 
hopeless. 

A favored rascal named Colignon was one of the king's most 
successful recruiting officers. This man had a roving commis- 
sion — went everywhere or anywhere under the royal safe-guard, 
picking up young clerks, apprentices, wild and wayward younger 
sons, discontented with the humdrum life of country homes, 
promised them lieutenancies, captaincies even, in the crack regi- 
ments, guards, cuirassiers, hussars; advanced them small sums of 
money, gave them orders for uniforms and outfit, ran them off 
from home stupefied with liquor, and when they came to their 
senses it was to find themselves in a recruit camp, learning the 
rudiments of the art of war to the accompaniment of a caning 
for every blunder. There was no time for extended explanation. 
And yet in this fifth campaign the Prussian army fought superbly, 
as we shall see, and these enforced recruits were better off in the 
end — those who were not maimed for life. 

Late in October, 1760, Field-Marshal Daun with some 60,000 
Austrians was encamped around Torgau, a city about the size of 
Frankfort-on-the-Oder, of 12,000 inhabitants. It lies ten miles 
north of the Saxon frontier on the west bank of the Elbe, and 
perhaps ninety miles west of south from Berlin. Off to the south- 
west, across the Saxon lines and thirty miles away, lay Leipsic, 
and here some 40,000 of the "Reich's" army, also Austrian, 



388 TORGAU. 

had fallen back before Frederick's advance. Mid-way between 
the two cities, and on a good road, lay Eilenburg, and only a few 
miles north of Eilenburg, the little town of Diiben. 

With one of his wonderfully quick marches Frederick sud- 
denly swooped upon Diiben, built a little magazine and store- 
house there, sent General Hiilsen with a good-sized corps to give 
battle to the Reich's army at Leipsic, while he himself seized 
the high-road to prevent Daun from attempting to help his breth- 
ren. The Reich's people never gave Hiilsen a chance to fight. 
The night he arrived before the north gates of the city, they 
slipped out by the south, and scurried off into mid-Saxony. They 
had no stomach for unsupported battle, even with a Prussian 
force vastly their numerical inferior. Hiilsen left a little garrison 
at Leipsic, October 31st, and, like the prompt soldier he was, 
hastened back to join his king. The Reich's army thus summa- 
rily disposed of, Frederick was ready to measure swords again 
with his old adversary. They must have had a good deal of re- 
spect for each other by this time — Daun and Frederick — for 
though Frederick leads only 44,000 men, Daun dares not move 
out from his intrenched position to meet him; and though Fred- 
erick has whipped Austrians and Russians when the odds were 
three to one against him, he knows well that he can afford no 
odds to Daun. 

On November 2d the Prussian army is en route for Torgau. 
That night they encamp at Schilda, seven miles south of the Aus- 
trian position, and this position is so strong as to be deserving 
of extended description. 

At Torgau, the Elbe, which has been flowing northwest, turns 
suddenly northward, and from the elbow or bend there starts a 
ridge, low at first, with gradual slopes north and south, but bolder, 
higher, steeper toward the west, until, three miles out, the south- 
ern sides are well-nigh precipitous, while those to the west and 
north are easy of ascent. It is perhaps 200 feet in height at the 
highest point, three miles long from the west end to the walls 
of Torgau, and a mile to a mile and a half across. Close into 
Torgau on the southern side, there is another point where the 
hank is very steep, but here the elevation is inconsiderable. This 



FREDERICK AGAIN DECEIVES DAUN. 339 

broad-backed ridge, mostly covered with vineyards, is known as 
"The Heigiits of Siptitz," and here within strong earthworks 
are Daun's 45,000 Austrians. Lacy with his corps, the rear 
guard, is farther to the east under Torgau. 

All along under the southern slope runs a dirty, sluggish stream, 
the Rohrgraben, which empties into as dirty a pond or series of 
ponds south of Torgau. Daun's army is facing south, and his 
front is covered by a score of these exasperating puddles. The 
whole country between Schilda and the Siptitz Heights is cut up 
by these lagoons of stagnant water, vastly in Frederick's way ; 
but from Schilda as far north as the eye can reach, way beyond 
the western end of the heights, the country is level and covered 
with a dense growth of forest. 

Frederick sees quickly enough that he cannot carry that invul- 
nerable position from the south. He means to let Daun think 
he is going to try, however, and on the night of November 2d 
makes his plans with all deliberation, but takes no one into his 
confidence. Small as is his force, he has determined to attack on 
both sides at once. We have seen him massing his whole com- 
mand against an exposed flank at Leuthen, attacking in one 
long encircling line at Kunersdorf, now we come upon him adopt- 
ing a third and desperately hazardous course, dividing his army 
into two independent corps, leaving one to threaten Daun from 
the south, while the other marches miles away through the woods 
to the west and north, makes a great circuit, comes out on the 
northern side of the Heights of Siptitz and attacks from there. 
What if Daun were to pounce on that 20,000 on the south side 
while Frederick is miles away to the west in the woods ? 

But Frederick means that Daun shall not know of the separa- 
tion. At half-past six on Monday morning, the 3d of Novem- 
ber, he faces the entire army westward, marches out of camp in 
that direction in four columns. On the right is Ziethen's corps, 
next the grenadiers and foot-guards, then the hussars and cuiras- 
'siers, and farthest to the left the baggage. Once well into the 
woods the heads of columns are turned to the right, and move 
northward through the shadowy aisles of the forest along little 
bridle-paths and wood-roads ; and here the king takes General 



390 TORGAU. 

Ziethen into his carriage. In a short time they will reach the 
highway from Eilenburg on the west to Torgau on the east. 
Before they get there, Frederick unfolds his plan to his loyal 
subordinate. " You with 20,000 men will follow the road to 
Torgau, until you reach the ' Butter Road ' which crosses the 
highway near Klitschen, and leads up to the heights of Siptitz. 
Here begin your deployment to the left. Prepare to attack 
from the south along the line of heights, but move slowly and 
deliberately. Be in no hurry. I have to march completely 
around to the north, and our attack must be simultaneous. 
You have barely six miles to march ; I have sixteen ; so keep 
here in the woods for an hour or so, to give me a good start," 
and by the time they have reached the Eilenburg road, Ziethen 
thinks he has the plan clearly settled in his mind. Yet he goes 
amiss. 

It is a dreary, drizzling morning. The wood-roads are soft 
and slippery, but leaving Ziethen there along the Eilenburg 
highway, the king pushes on northward. He reforms along the 
road and now is marching in four columns : baggage to the 
extreme left, the west, then Holstein with most all the cavalry, 
the cuirassiers, hussars and dragoons, and a small brigade of foot; 
then Hiilsen with two divisions of infantry of the line ; then, 
nearest to the Siptitz heights, but still hidden from them in the 
woods, Frederick himself with 8,000 grenadiers and guardsmen, 
and 800 picked hussars under Kleist. The roads, though practi- 
cally parallel in their general direction, are, after a while, some- 
what baffling and intricate. The baggage is halted under strong 
guard well out in the forest, and the other three columns trudge 
ahead through the dripping woods. Daun has scouts out there, 
of course, and presently Frederick's column runs up against a 
small force with a light battery ; the battery fires a salvo, then 
limbers up and trots off towards Siptitz, and couriers galloping 
in, warn Daun that the enemy are moving around him. All the 
previous night he has had Lacy with the rear guard, a corps of 
20,000 in itself, down south of Torgau to avert surprise from 
that quarter; now he sends word to Lacy to close in on the 
heights, and take post facing southwest between the Rohrgraben 



ZIETHEN'S PREMATURE MOVE. 39] 

and Torgau. So towards nine o'clock Lacy is filing into his 
new position, while his cavalry go adventurously out to the 
southwest in search of possible Prussians. All the Austrian 
baggage is across the Elbe, sent there the previous day, for 
Daun believes in being on the safe side in the event of disaster. 
Besides the great stone bridge, he has three pontoons from Tor- 
gau to the opposite bank, and can cross at a moment's notice. 

Meantime the three Prussian columns are steadily plodding 
northward, invisible to one another; and, unknown to Frederick, 
Holstein is getting altogether too far out to the west. He is 
following the road and really cannot help himself. Out here a 
rfgiment of Austrian dragoons, scouting, gets between the 
columns of Hiilsen and Holstein, and is very cleverly trapped 
and taken prisoner, but in doing it several batteries get into 
miry ground, are delayed an hour or more, and just now delays 
are very dangerous. 

But while Holstein is groping there to the west, Frederick 
•ontinues pushing ahead. He has got to the northwest of the 
heights by this time, and Daun, following his move with sharp- 
eyed cavalry, readily divines his purpose of attacking from the 
north, and makes great preparations to meet him. He has im- 
mense store of artillery. Never before did so many cannon appear 
in battle. Austrian officers say that they had 400 guns, and 
200 of these are hurriedly run into battery on the northern 
slopes to command the wood-skirts only 800 yards away. 
Somewhere along there Frederick must emerge. 

Meantime, Lacy from the southwest has been marching up 
the Rohrgraben with the Austrian rear guard, sending forward, 
as we have seen, cavalry and some light guns to hunt for Prus- 
sians out towards the " Butter Street ; " and old Ziethen with his 
20,000 has by this time decided that Frederick has gone so far 
as to render his own move necessary. He has therefore marched 
east along the Eilenburg, turned north towards the heights at 
the Butter road, and there, runs slap into Lacy's explorers. 
These fellows, instead of scurrying back, unlimber their guns 
and show fight. Ziethen has to order up a few batteries to reply, 
and the next thing grim old Frederick hears, six or eight miles 



392 TORGAU. 

away, is the booming of artillery south of the Siptitz, whereat 
he begins, soldier fashion, to swear. " Ziethen engaged already, 
and we won't be ready for two hours," is his reflection. Could 
he see just what Ziethen is doing, he would probably rage. 
The Austrian advance retires in good order before Ziethen, and 
the latter, intent on picking up all he can, pursues them. His 
instructions were to be in readiness to attack along the Butter 
road, which runs up on the west end of the heights. Instead of 
that, he has faced eastward again, and is following up that ad- 
mirably handled reconnoitring brigade. Full two miles he goes, 
emerges from the woods, and finds himself engaged in artillery 
duel with Lacy across the Rohrgraben, and there he is planted 
the rest of the live-long day. He has found an enemy strongly 
posted and equal numerically to his own force. He knows he 
is out of position, yet he cannot bear to fall back in apparent 
defeat; so there, in chafing irresolution, he lingers, waiting for 
news from Frederick, and for want of something better to do 
keeping up this languid and sullen artillery practice. 

Meantime, noon has come and gone ; so has one o'clock, and 
Frederick with his grenadiers and Kleist's handful of hussars is 
now at the skirts of the wood north of Siptitz waiting for Hiil- 
sen and Holstein. Not a word can he hear of either. Staff- 
officers go spurring through the forest to the northwest in search 
of them, but another hour goes by, Hiilsen is found and turned 
in the right direction, but no Holstein. Frederick can bear the 
suspense no longer. The steady thunder of Ziethen's and Lacy's 
guns grows louder as he pushes through the wood towards the 
heights. At last he halts his Potsdammers close to the edge 
of the open fields under Daun's batteries, and looks out. The 
position is well-nigh as formidable as that at Kunersdorf, and 
the guns and gunners are far more so ; but those superb grena- 
diers, the flower of his army, carried the heights there, and they 
can do it here. In his impatience he cannot wait ; the devoted 
guards are ordered to make the first attack ; the grenadiers form 
in two lines ; Ramin's brigade acts in support as a third ; and, 
in magnificent order, despite thd pelting rain, they issue from 
the woods, crush through the old rotten half-burned abatis left 



MAGNIFICENT CHARGE OF FREDERICK'S GRENADIERS. 393 

there a year before, and stalk out on the unsheltered slopes, th- 
target for three hundred and fifty guns. Pickett at Gettysburg 
is a recent parallel. Daun's left is their objective point ; and 
Daun's left, like Nadasti's, at Leuthen, is thrown back en potcncc, 
and to the bellowing accompaniment of those twenty score of 
guns, Prussia's best and bravest move slowly and steadily up 
that natural glacis. " Did you ever hear such an infernal can- 
nonade before ? " asks King Frederick, as he rides to his place 
between the two lines of his grenadiers; for now and always, 
this superb old soldier fights with his men in the thickest of the 
battle. 

There is something grand in this desperate charge ; some- 
thing inexplicable, however, in the motive that could inspire and 
direct it. Eight thousand men, unsupported by artillery, unsup- 
ported by anything in fact, for Hiilsen has not yet shown a 
bayonet, to attempt to carry even the shoulder of a line held by 
such overpowering force, and defended by such vast numbers 
of guns! It looks like madness ! Whole companies are swept 
to earth at a time ; one regiment, the left of the leading line, is 
practically annihilated; only its colors and a handful of bleeding 
officers and men represent it when the line reaches the crest ; 
but it gets there, what there is of it, fighting superbly, and the 
thinned, ragged, breathless line stands flashing through the 
battle-smoke, triumphant over all effort. But at what fearful 
cost ! There were 6,000 grenadiers in those two lines twent}- 
minutes ago; now, though right in among the Austrian guns, 
they number not 2,000. Two-thirds of their stern, battle-tried 
brethren lie stretched, dead, dying or crippled upon the north- 
ern slope of the Siptitz. And now, swarming around the de- 
voted remnant, the Austrian foot-regiments pour in furious volleys 
of musketry; still the carnage goes on, and, with absolutely 
nothing won except honor, with almost everything lost except 
honor, Frederick orders them to fall back. Only 1,000 can obey, 
another thousand is lying there around the guns at the crest. 

Slowly and in sullen order they give way, once more for an 
instant becoming the target of the thundering guns ; then the 
exulting footmen of the enemy rush forward, envelop their fla»ks, 



394 TORGAU. 

protect them from artillery fire but substitute their own musketry. 
They make the rush in tumultuous disorder. There is no break- 
ing that indomitable Potsdam front, and suddenly the brigade 
of Ramin, right and left, sweeps forward in disciplined support. 
Then united the Prussians leap upon the mobs of the enemy, 
bear them backwards up the slope, enter the lines with them, 
through the guns, over the earthworks, never giving them time 
to reform or rally, and in the twinkling of an eye, Daun's left is 
thrown into grievous disorder and swept away, and Daun him- 
self, striving to mend matters, is shot in the leg. It is three 
o'clock now, and luckily for Frederick and his exhausted men, 
here comes Hiilsen. 

Like grim death, the guardsmen and Ramin cling to what 
they have won while Hiilsen's lines deploy under the fire of 
those terrible guns farther east. At half-past three he moves 
forward. The rain has stopped now, " blown away by the tre- 
mendous artillery," writes an artillery officer who saw it all, and 
Hiilsen's attack is vigorous and well led. Daun's left, already 
disordered and the " potence" broken, is in a bad way, but he has 
right there on the west side of the heights along the Butter 
Street a strong reserve, the very people whom Ziethen was to 
hold and keep busy, and Ziethen is not there to do it. He is 
off" to the east dallying with Lacy. Instantly, Daun summons 
tiie reserve to the rescue, and now with overpowering numbers 
.le rushes on Frederick. Frederick himself is struck nearly 
senseless by a half-spent grape shot, and this time Prussia is 
carried back in some dismay. The second attack has failed, and 
both on his side and Daun's the losses have been terrible. 
Never had such a roar of artillery been heard. In this respect, 
Torgau was the Gettysburg of the Seven Years' War. Four 
o'clock has come : Frederick is again in saddle ; Daun, bleeding 
but determined, is straightening out his shattered left. The sun 
is going down through the dripping clouds and murky smoke 
to the west; and just at this juncture, Holstein with the long lost 
cavalry comes trotting into line. 

There is no time to waste in explanations or inquiries. Fred- 
erick calls once more upon his infantry, hurls Holstein in with 



ZIETHFN'S Nir.IIT ATTACK. 395 

his whole force upon Daun's right, and so the third attack begins. 
The infantry, worn and wearied, make little impression; the cav- 
alry do some superb work, but cannot hold what they win. Dark- 
ness is settling upon the field. Neither side can much longer see 
to fight; and, utterly disheartened, Frederick turns over charge 
of the bivouacking and night guards to Hiilsen, and rides back 
to the rear for rest and a rap at Ziethen ; while Daun turns over 
charge to his third in command (his second, Buccow, is killed), 
" an Irish Graf O'Donnell," and goes into Torgau to get his 
wound dressed. 

" If Holstein had not lost his way and that stupid Ziethen his 
head, we would have won the fight three hours ago," thought 
Frederick as he gloomily rode away. Now it seemed that all 
was over for the day, and perhaps for good. Who could tell what 
Daun might not accomplish on the morrow, now that he knew 
how the Prussian army was divided ? He might annihilate Zie- 
then at daybreak; then turn on the king. 

But Daun never had the chance. The battle of November 3d 
that had apparently closed at sunset — drawn, was not yet done. 
It was stupid, much-abused old Ziethen who was to renew and 
to win it. 

Way off at Elsnig, four miles back of his lines. King Frederick 
is dictating a furious letter to his old hussar leader whom he had 
left on the Eilenburg road that morning, when everybody starts 
to his feet and listens. Thundering, booming, crashing through the 
sodden air there comes the uproar of sudden cannonade far away 
to the south. It grows in vehemence with every moment; is 
presently supplemented by the roll and rattle of musketry. The 
southern horizon flashes like heat lightning with the reflecting 
glare of the volleys and salvos. It cannot be Hulsen; he is on 
this side or lapping around to the west side of the heights. It 
can only be Ziethen. It must be Ziethen. What can the old 
madman be up to now? Staff"-officers spring into saddle and go 
sputtering off through the muddy roads and the murky darkness 
to inquire the meaning of this strange night-attack. 

It is old Ziethen. Disgusted with having accomplished noth- 
ing all day, determined to have some part in the battle before the 



596 TORGAU. 

3d of November shall have passed away at midnight, just when 
Daun's wearied army has thrown itself upon the ground around 
the bivouac fires for such rest as it can secure, Ziethen slips away 
from Lacy's unseeing front, plods back two miles through the 
woods towards the Butter road, his eager division commanders, 
Saldern and MoUendorff, pointing out the way. The latter seizes 
the passage across the Rohrgraben and deploys on its northern 
side, pushes on towards the Austrian watch-fires on the heights ; 
while Saldern, farther east, takes for his beacon the lights in and 
around Siptitz. Presently they strike the out-posts, paying no 
heed to guttural challenge and orders to halt, and the next thing 
the Austrians know, a fresh corps is thundering at their battered 
and exhausted front, Ziethen is stumbling up the heights of 
Siptitz by the light of his own musketry, and if not driven back, 
in ten minutes he will be master of the key-point of the whole 
ridge, the westernmost, the loftiest of the heights. 

It is dark — so dark that one's hand cannot be seen before the 
face ; so dark that those who do not want to fight readily excuse 
themselves from taking part ; not so dark but what those who do, 
manage to get there. Of the former is Lacy, who, with 20,000 
fresh troops, is only three miles away, and to whom O'Donnell 
sends frantic and frequent appeals. Of the latter are gallant 
Hulsen and Lestwitz, who have been fighting hard all day, but 
spring to arms and come filing through the pitchy night to aid 
their comrades in the new and gloriously promising assault. 
Daun, way off in Torgau, has been speeding jubilant despatches 
to- Vienna, as Frederick did from Kunersdorf to Berlin. Now 
he sends fervid injunctions to O'Donnell to hold those western 
heights at all hazards ; and O'Donnell tries — tries hard. But the 
ascent is gradual and open ; the Austrian guns had all been 
lugged over to the north side during the day; now, those they 
manage to hurry back, fire high and send their shrieking missiles 
clear over the heads of the assaulting columns ; while Saldern's 
guns, sighted by the glare of burning Siptitz, rake the breast- 
works and sweep away their defenders. In one hour's superb 
effort, Saldern from the south, MoUendorff from the west, Hiilsen 
and Lestwitz from the northwest, have stormed and carried the 



FTiEDERICK EMBRACES ZIETHEN. 397 . 

heights of Siptitz at the highest point, and now are fighting down 
hill towards Torgau and the east, driving the Austrians before 
them. O'Donnell is whipped. The principals being out of the 
way, the seconds are finishing up the fight, and most conclusi'Velj-. 
Lacy, it is said, is always more successful in getting out of 
the Prussian way than in getting in ; and so when nine o'clock 
comes, and with it a disordered mass of Austrian fugitives swarm- 
ing eastward for the pontoons and the bridge. Lacy, who swears 
it was far too dark to march into battle, finds it light, enough to 
march out; and when the firing gradually dies away at ten o'clock, 
he and his corps, in most creditable order, file through Torgau en 
rojde for the other side of the Elbe. 

The Prussians, closing in towards the city with its fortifica- 
tions, form in rude semi-circle outside the works, deeming it best 
not to attack them in the night. Couriers are sent to Frederick 
to apprise him of the state of affairs, but the king is still gruff 
and out of temper. He must be vastly relieved at the thought 
that the heights are won, and the battle will not have to be fought 
again on the morrow; but he possibly hates to think that after 
all it w^s old Ziethen's, not his doing. At all events, he does 
not come down to the army. He spends the night in the church 
at Elsnig, using the altar for a desk, and sending orders and des- 
patches. 

Daun in Torgau has meantime had to send a very mournful 
missive to Vienna. Then he goes on with the work of retreat. 
By one in the morning he is ripping up his pontoon bridges be 
hind his last battalions, and Prussian officers, prowling under 
the walls to find out what they can of movements within, gradually 
discover that they are unguarded; and along towards morning 
gloomy Frederick, wrapped in his cloak, and wandering among 
the hospital fires around Elsnig, is approached by a shadowy 
form. A wearied but exultant soldier dismounts, and greets his 
commander-in-chief with the news that Torgau is evacuated — 
Hiilsen in possession. It is old Ziethen himself, and the story- 
tellers of the day would have us believe that, in the joy of the 
moment, the monarch forgot his ire and embraced his forgiven 
general. Then he ordered his horse, and with Ziethen rode into 
the captured city. 
s6 



398 TORGAU. 

Torgau was Frederick's last battle, and Daun's : the latter's 
star had set never again to rise. With the most elaborate 
artiUery ever intrusted to any commander in the field, with an 
almost impregnable position, with strong numerical superiority 
he had met a disastrous defeat. He had lost I2,ooo killed and 
Wounded, 8,000 prisoners (left behind straggling in the dark- 
ness), forty-five guns and thirty flags or standards; and Fred- 
erick's final victory was won at the fearful cost of at least 
10,000 killed and wounded (one-fourth of his command), besides 
some 4,000 who were taken prisoners and carried off across the 
Elbe. 

Pursuit was immediate. Even while Ziethen himself rode to 
Elsnig to bear the news to Frederick, his corps was crossing at 
the heels of prudent Lacy. Back went the Austrians through 
Silesia. Loudon, storming at Kosel, had to drop it and join in 
the retreat. The Russians, off to the northeast near the Oder, 
hearing the astonishing news of Daun's defeat, concluded that 
they had seen enough of Frederick's dominions, and his fight- 
ing tactics; so faced about, and for the third time made for 
Poland — this time to stay. The tide had indeed turned. In 
every direction the enemies of Prussia around the great circle 
were recoiling as though exploded from an immense central 
mine. The end of the fifth campaign was most triumphant for 
Frederick. 

Still fortitude and courage were demanded. Severe reverses 
had to be encountered in the following year, when the Russians 
and Swedes, sworn enemies a few years back, joined forces and 
ravaged Pomerania, and the death of George II. deprived 
Frederick of the valued aid of England. The end of the sixth 
campaign — a campaign of manoeuvres, not battles — found the 
Prussians hemmed in again on e\-ery .side and well-nigh crushed; 
but in January, 1762, the beginning of the seventh year, the 
bitterest of Prussia's enemies, the Empress of Russia, was called 
to her last account, and with her death Russia abandoned the 
contest. 

Now began the seventh campaign, Austria and France alone 
keeping up the fight, and when the proposition to submit the 



FREDERICK ACKN-OWLEDOEn LORD OF SILESIA. 399 

cause to arbitration was refused by Austria, Frederick found 
an unexpected ally in Peter III. of Russia. True, no troops 
actually came to his aid in battle, for they were recalled by 
Catherine II. almost immediately; but Russian neutrality was 
all Frederick asked for. In May, 1762, he and Daun were facing 
each other on the old ground near Leuthen, but they did not 
come to blows. Their subordinates conducted the fights at 
Burkersdorf and Reichenbach, and both there, and again at 
Freiberg, the Austrians were badly beaten. 

Then France gave up a contest in which she had hardly won 
a battle, and, on field after field, had lost the little military 
renown she had claimed since Fontenoy. The Empress Maria 
Theresa of Austria was left, at last, without an ally, and in sore 
disappointment was finally compelled to sign the treaty of peace 
of Hubertsburg on the 15th of February, 1763, by which Fred- 
erick the Great was finally acknowledged lord of Silesia. So 
ended the great Seven Years' War, leaving Prussia the military 
leader of Europe, with a moral power vasdy increased, and a 
war-like prestige that clung to her until her flag was lowered 
before Napoleon at Jena. 






I; iTTLE-FIFXD 




BUNKER HILL. 



1775 




BY JAMES H. WILLARD. 

HE quarrel between the British Government 
and the American colonies, made fearful 
strides from that day in the old capitol at 
Williamsburg, when Patrick Heniy electri- 
fied the Virginia burgesses with the pro- 
phetic words : " The next gale that sweeps 
from the north will bring to our ears the 
clash of resounding arms." Massachusetts 
had been first to prepare for defence against 
oppressive measures and pretences of conciliation ; an appeal 
to arms was now to occur upon her soil. 

The flames of war were kindling. To be enrolled in the 
" minute men" was to receive an honor; stores of war material 
were gathered. The abortive attempt of the British to seize 
such a hoard at Salem, was followed by Lexington, where " The 
embattled farmers stood and fired the shot heard round the 
world." Under a radiant April moon, a British column — eight 
hundred strong, left Boston with all the secrecy it could com- 
mand, on the night of April 1 8th. Sixteen miles separated 
them irom Concord, where patient labor had collected ammuni- 
tion and stores for the patriot cause. At dawn the British were 
at Lexington. On the village green was gathered the immortal 
company that dared to resist the progress of the arrogant foe. 
For, the alarm, flashed by the light in the old North Church 
belfry, had been spread by " a hurry of hoofs in a village street." 
Bells had pealed throughout the nifrht : gun had told to gun 
the approach of a foe. 
(400) 



A PITIFUL EEKAND. 403 

" Too few to resist, too brave to fly," the handful of villagers 
faced the British ranks. " Disperse, you rebels; throw down 
your arms and disperse ! " met no response from the heroic 
band. A volley of British musketry ; seven stiffening corpses ; 
a solemn hush broken only by the wails of those who mourn 
their dead — that is the story of Lexington. 

Still bent upon their pitiful errand, the British pressed on to 
Concord through the still, morning air, A paltry success re- 
warded their efforts, and they turned to retrace their steps. 
But avengers were gathering. Every step of the retreating 
column was dogged. Grandsire, father, youth even, sent the 
sure bullet from the vantage of tree, bush or wall. Retreat 
turned to rout, as the flying grenadiers streamed along between 
the fields. Death lurked at every crossroad ; at every rifle- 
crack, a red-coat fell. Behind, on either side, the avenging 
militia pressed their foes until Lexington was reached. There 
the British found reinforcements, with cannon to keep their 
pitiless pursuers at bay. But while they could keep the de- 
spised militia at some distance, they could not prevent the irregu- 
lar, but galling fire of the patriots. Thus harassed, their disastrous 
day did not end until Bunker Hill was reached after sunset, and 
they were under the protecting guns of a British man-of-war. 

After Lexington, the breach between mother-country and 
colony grew wider. The contagion of patriotism flew far and 
wide. Connecticut sent the flower of her province to the assis- 
tance of Massachusetts ; Israel Putnam, whose reputation for 
gallant deeds clothed him as with a garment, leaving his plow 
in tiie furrow, joined the American camp at Cambridge. New 
Hampshire sent John Stark and three regiments of her gallant 
sons. Wherever the tidings of Lexington were borne; wher- 
ever the names of the martyred dead were spoken, old and 
young flew to arms, raised funds, collected supplies. New York 
espoused the quarrel of Massachusetts : recruits for the army 
before Boston arrived from the banks of the Patapsco. 

While 20,000 men were throwing up entrenchments before 
Boston, Ethan Allen surprised and captured Ticonderoga and 
Crown Point, with the assistance of Benedict Arnold whose 



404 BtTBKEK HILL. 

career was then untarnished by treachery and dishonor. Now, 
the Provincial Congress of Massacliusetts pilloried the British 
commander in a resolution setting forth " that General Gage 
has, by his late transactions, utterly disqualified himself from 
serving this colony, either as its governor, or in any other ca- 
pacity ; and that, therefore, no obedience is due to him ; but 
that, on the contrary, he ought to be considered and guarded 
against as an unnatural and inveterate enemy to the country." 
But Gage, feeling his position more tenable since the arrival of re- 
inforcements under such experienced officers as Generals Howe, 
Clinton and Burgoyne, issued a proclamation of pardon in the 
name of the king, to all Americans who would lay down their 
arms, always excepting Samuel Adams and John Hancock. 

On the evening of June i6th. Colonel Prescott was dispatched 
with 1,000 troops, from the American camp at Cambridge, to 
fortify Bunker Hill. This movement was decided upon to an- 
ticipate the British in the possession of the position. Breed's 
Hill, nearer the extremity of the Charlestown peninsula, afforded 
a more commanding position, however, and there the entrench- 
ments were thrown up ; yet the memorable engagement that fol- 
lowed, will always be known as the Battle of Bunker Hill. A 
fervent prayer for the success of their undertaking fell from the 
eloquent lips of President Langdon, of Harvard College, as 
Prescott's band stood around him, their heads bared in the 
splendor of a summer moon. In silence, the devoted detach- 
ment left Cambridge behind them ; traversed Charlestown neck ; 
gained their objective unobserved. Sentry-calls from the six- 
gun battery on Copp's Hill came clearly across the narrow 
strait that divided the patriots from slumbering Boston 
Quietly the entrenching tools were plied until dawn revealed 
the emplacements to the astonished watch on the British sloop- 
of-war Lively. So assiduously had the Americans wrought 
throughout the night, that a redoubt six feet high and covering 
some eight acres of ground, crowned the acclivity of Breed's 
Hill. Under a murderous fire from the Lively, the patriots 
worked on ; throwing up a breastwork toward the Mystic River 
and joining it to the redoubt. The battery on Copp's Hill, 



SAGE MAKES A MOVE. 40J 

hurled its iron death among the devoted band plying mattock 
and spade along their perilous line. The tall form of Prescott 
was seen encouraging his men, infusing courage wherever he 
went. 

Gage's first offensive movement was to send Howe to flank 
the American position. Prescott threw up a barrier of fence 
posts and hay, in front of a low stone wall, and held them at bay 
with a Connecticut regiment. Scattered reinforcements from 
Cambridge joined the indomitable mass, crouching in ominous 
quietude behind their hasty defences. Braving the iron storm 
that swept Charlestown neck, Stark led his New Hampshire 
men into the patriot lines ; others came singly. Dr. Joseph 
Warren, a newly-made major-general in the American army, 
served as a volunteer. Pomeroy, seventy years of age, joined 
the ranks, a musket on his shoulder. 

Field-piece and howitzer roared above the crack of small arms, 
as Howe advanced his troops in two hnes, to the attack. 
Charlestown, in flames, formed the background to a scene set in 
horrid grandeur. From every height in Boston, shuddering 
spectators watched the opening act in the gruesome tragedy, 
with throbbing hearts. Behind their flimsy barricades, 1,500 
worn and weary patriots, imdisciplined, hungry, waited the on- 
slaught of 3,000 picked troops, well equipped, well led, ex- 
perienced on many a famous field. Grimly the Americai-vs with- 
held their fire, yet every man marked his prey as the sfiiried 
columns drew near. Not until "die whites of their e.icinv'f 
eyes " were visible, did the patriot; rifles and fowling-pieces flas'. 
their welcome to the foe. Platoon after platoon went do\vi-» 
before the merciless fire ; astonished, the survivors stood among 
the slain, then flew in headlong rout, as vite bugles shrilled re- 
call. 

In re-formed lines, the British flung themselves upon the 
American defences for the second time. Again, the heroic de- 
fenders met them with crackling volleys that tore through the 
red-coated ranks, leaving ghastly heaps upon the blood-stained 
sward. Dismayed by the withering fire; bewildered by the 
obstinacy of the patriot resistance ; the assailing troops recoiled 



4o6 BUNKER HILL. 

from the wall of death, and again fled down the slope in utter 
confusion. 

Clinton brought from Boston the reinforcements that made 
possible the capture of the American position. So disheartened 
were Howe's troops after two repulses, that it was with difficulty 
they were led to a third attempt upon the hill. The British ar- 
tillery tore the rude breastwork into fragments, and drove its 
defenders into the redoubt. Then from three sides, the infantry, 
in light order, and with fixed bayonets, charged the handful of 
heroes who had twice beaten back the flower of the British 
. army. Only one death-dealing volley could the patriots pour 
into the advancing columns. Their ammunition was exhausted. 
As the British swarmed into the enclosure, clubbed muskets 
greeted them. Inch by inch the Americans disputed the British 
riglit of way. They repelled the turbulent assault until borne 
back by overwhelming numbers. Deadly was the grapple 
within the earthern walls. So deadly that the shattered British 
regiments made no more than a pretence of pursuit, after their 
dearly-won triumph. More than one thousand of their dead 
lay around them. A " gathering of neighbors, schoolmates and 
friends " had inflicted this loss upon Britain's trained veterans, and 
then — beaten, but unsubdued, had sullenly retired. Four hun- 
dred and fifty-three Americans fell on that summer day. Warren, 
the accomplished young physician among them — all martyred 
in the cause of liberty. 

The effect of the Battle of Bunker Hill, upon the country, 
'as electrifying. Many who doubted before this clash of arms, 
ga>^e in their allegiance to the patriot cause. Raw troops could 
stand fire, could fight. Abroad, it was acknowledged that such 
self-control amid carnage and such precision of aim, had rarely 
if ever been illustrated on former fields. 

The second Continental Congress met at Philadelphia on 
May lOth. The production of documentary evidence by John 
Hancock — showing that in the affair of Lexington, the British 
troops were the aggressors, caused this body to unanimously 
-determine that the several provinces should be placed in a state 
of defence. Then a humble and dutiful petition to the king 



WASHINGTON ASSUMES COMMAND. 



407 



and an admirable address to the people of Great Britain and 
Ireland, were prepared. Next came the organization of a mili- 
tary force, the issuing of bills of credit, and the choice of a 
commander-in-chief 

General George Washington assumed command of the Amer- 
ican army on July 3d, and set about perfecting its organization. 
Powder was scarce in the American lines, but fortunately Gen- 
eral Gage made no sally from Boston. Meanwhile, in Virginia, 
the colonists and the king's troops met in combat, and the lat- 
ter were worsted. Other provinces were lukewarm in the cause. 
In March of the ensuing year, the British evacuated Boston. 
Admiral Parker attacked Fort Moultrie in June, but failing to 
capture it, withdrew his fleet. Then came the Declaration of 
Liberty, the Battle of Long Island, operations around New 
York, the campaigns in New Jersey and Pennsylvania, and the 
Battle of Bennington. 




BUNKER HXLIi AND VXCiNlir. 



SARATOGA. 




HE story of our war for independence is so 
well known to American readers that but 
little need be said by way of prelude to 
the memorable events which brought about 
the surrender of the British m October, 1777. 
For years we have been accustomed to speak 
of the scene as Saratoga, and for old associa- 
tion's sake the name is preserved here. In 
point of fact no battle was fought at Saratoga, 
so called, and the Saratoga near which the 
gallant and unlucky Burgoyne laid down his arms was a little 
hamlet on the west bank of the Hudson river, close by the old 
home of our noble-hearted Schuyler. Even then it was more 
properly termed Schuylerville, and the modern town of Sara- 
toga, which has grown up around the celebrated springs of 
that name, is far west of the scenes we have here to describe, 
and the two battles which preceded the surrender occurred 
some miles south of Schuylerville — where the Fishkill empties 
into the Hudson — were fought in the woods and ravines of Mill 
Creek, and are properly known by the names of Freeman's Farm 
(September 19th), and Bemis' Heights (October 7th). 

By the general name of Saratoga, however, we include both 
these engagements and the surrender which ensued, and so it is 
understood in England. 

Trivial as were the numbers engaged in comparison with the 
battles that have been hitherto described, Saratoga ranks with 
the greatest of them in political and historical importance. 



ONE OF THE FIFTEEN DECISIVE HAi IJ.KS. 409 

One eminent writer, Professor Creasy, places it among his 
" Fifteen Decisive Battles of the World," and as he adopts 
Hallam's definition, " Those few battles of which a contrary 
event would have essentially varied the drama of the world in 
all its subsequent scenes," no American need hesitate to claim 
for Saratoga that which so scholarly and learned an English- 
man has so conscientiously accorded. " Essentially varied," in- 
deed, would have been " the drama of the world," had Burgoyne 
been able to hold out a week longer and join his forces with 
those of Sir Henry Clinton. 

The American army had been driven out of Canada. It had 
been soundly whipped at the Battle of Long Island, Washing- 
ton had abandoned New York and was striving to keep up a 
gallant front in the Jerseys ; but matters looked dark enough 
for the young colonies when, in the summer of 1777, Lieutenant- 
General John Burgoyne came marching down the shores of 
Lake Champlain with orders to sweep the valley of the Hudson 
to Albany, and then unite with Sir Henry Clinton, who was to 
move up the river from New York. 

Burgoyne was a gallant soldier, and a gentleman of stainless 
character. He had won distinction in Portugal, and was especially 
selected by the ministry at London to head this elaborately 
planned expedition. He set forth in high hope ; he took with 
him some of the most thoroughly disciplined and " seasoned " 
regiments of the British army ; his Hessian and German allies 
were old regulars ; his officers were loyal and accomplished sol- 
diers ; but he was hampered by certain orders and instructions 
that were destined to cause him infinite embarrassment and much 
mental suffering, and the worst of these was an imperative man- 
date that he should employ the savage tribes as allies. 

Assembling his command on the river Boquet, on the west 
side of Lake Champlain, in June, he gave his Indians a war-feast 
and a lecture. They accepted the former with customary 
avidity and paid no earthly attention to the latter. Burgoyne 
adjured them through their interpreters to abstain from torture, 
or from the murder of unarmed persons. The Indians made no 
definite reply, and probably remained stolidly unimpressed by 



his eloquence, for the brutal murder of Miss McCrea at their 
hands occurred soon after, and, despite his reluctance to employ 
them at all, and his earnest efforts to control the allies forced upon 
him by orders from London, the English general was compelled 
to bear the abuse and hatred of the Americans, for our generals 
found m this one circumstance a most powerful recruiting agent. 
Except as guides, and very rarely as skirmishers, the Indians 
were no help whatever to Burgoyne; whereas by their employ- 
ment he saw, as he had predicted, all the colonists now vehemently 
arrayed against him. Men who had been lukewarm to the 
American cause before, now joined in heart and soul, and even 
the stolid phlegmatic Dutch of the Hudson and Mohawk val- 
leys, who up to this time had been counted on as leaning tow- 
ards the side of the crown, flocked to the American camp by 
dozens, and after Stark's success at Bennington, by scores. 

"All is fair in love or war" seems to have been the motto of 
his majesty's ministry in dictating the employment of Indians, 
and of our own generals in abusing Burgoyne as though the idea 
originated with him. His colleague, St. Leger, did go so far, 
when demanding the surrender of Fort Stanvvix, as to threaten 
the garrison with the vengeance of the Indians in the event of a 
refusal to come to immediate terms; but Burgoyne from his 
inmost soul revolted at the idea, and never could be induced to 
yield to the Indian demands, that they should do as they wished 
with their captives. Like St. Leger's brief campaign, the sub- 
ject of the Indian allies may be summed up in very few words. 
Far more harm than benefit was the result to the British 
arms. 

St. Leger, who was to co-operate with Burgoyne, was sent up 
the St. Lawrence with a mixed force of regulars, Hessians, 
Canadians and Indians. His orders were to land at Oswego, 
reduce Fort Stanwix (or Schuyler), near where Rome now stands, 
then come down the Mohawk, punishing the American sympa- 
thizers by the way, and join Burgoyne, who by that time was to 
be in Albany. Neither of them ever got there. St. Leger ob- 
tained a temporary success at Oriskany, where our General 
Herkimer stumbled into ambuscade ; but his threat to turn over 




GENERAL GEOKLiE WASHliSGTOii. 



ST. LEGER'S AND BAUME'S EXPEDITIONS FAIL. 41:^. 

the garrison of Stanwix to the tomahawk and scalping knife led 
to a defiant reply and vehement resistance, and then, alarmed at 
the mere report that American reinforcements were coming, he 
and his men fled precipitately to Oswego, where at the end of 
August he confessed his expedition a failure, and had the grace 
to attribute much of the ill-success to the fact that his soldiers 
were in pitiable plight owing to the plunder of the Indians. 

In this way Burgoyne's flankers on the right were successfulh- 
disposed of^a moral victory for the Americans that gave 
great encouragement and satisfaction throughout the hard- 
pushed colonies. Almost simultaneously, there came a gallant 
blow at his left. The British advance had been uniformly suc- 
cessful. The strong post of Ticonderoga had fallen before their 
artillery, and was justifiably abandoned by St. Clair in time to 
save his command from being surrounded and captured. By 
July 30th the army of Burgoyne was encamped at Fort Edward. 
Provisions -were needed, and it was known that the Americans 
had large stores at Bennington, just over the Vermont line, so 
on the 15th of August a strong detachment of Hessians under 
Colonel Baume, subsequently strengthened by reinforcements 
under Breyman, made an attempt to seize the magazines. They 
were met by the Americans under General Stark and severely 
whipped, losing nearly a thousand men in killed, wounded and 
prisoners, while the total loss of General Stark was not more 
than eighty. This spirited little affair, followed so closely by the 
news of St. Leger's discomfiture, created a blaze of enthusiasm, 
and from all quarters recruits and volunteers came pouring into 
the American camp. 

Crippled in this way on both wings, and by this time deprived 
of the services of many Canadians, and many more Indians, all 
of whom, said the gallant gentleman, he " would rather lose than 
connive at their enormities," Burgoyne, when essaying the 
advance upon the Hudson, was far from being over-confident. 
He had thrown a bridge of rafts across the river near Saratoga 
on the 14th of August, and made preparations to cross as soon 
as the supplies from Bennington were brought in ; but those 
supplies, as we have seen, did not come, neither did the majority 



414 SARATOGA. 

of the troops sent to fetch them ; and the British were compelled 
to lie for nearly a month in idleness in their camps. It is now- 
time to take a look at the composition of their forces. 

On the 1st of July, just before the investment of Ticonderoga, 
the muster-rolls show the British column to have consisted as 
follows (and we owe the details to Colonel Carrington) : 



Regulars from England . . : . 
Regulars from Germany .... 

Light artillery ...... 

Canadians and Tories .... 

Indians (Iroquois, Algonquins and Ottowas) 



3,724 men 
3,016 " 

473 " 
250 " 
400 " 



Total, 7,863 " 

Before the affairs around Saratoga, the force of Indians was 
increased to about one thousand, but such was Burgoyne's dis- 
trust and dislike of them, that they rapidly left him — a good 
riddance. 

Now these numbers are so small in comparison with those 
with which we have been dealing, that it may seem as though 
their deeds were unworthy of mention ; but seldom have better 
troops taken the field : especially was this the case with the 
regulars from England. For some strange reason no complete 
regiment was with Burgoyne, a detachment from each one being 
retained in Canada ostensibly for its defence, or to accompany 
the St. Leger expedition along the Mohawk. Ail the grenadiers 
and light infantry, some 1,500 men, were organized as a brigade 
and placed under command of a skilled and gallant soldier, 
Brigadier-General Eraser. A second brigade was formed of the 
cotnpanies of the Ninth, Twenty-first, and Forty-seventh regi- 
ments of the line, 1,194 men; and a third of the Twentieth, Fifty- 
third and Sixty-second regiments, another 1,194. The artillery 
accompanying the column consisted of twenty-six guns, ten of 
these being formed in a special park under General Philips ; the 
others, light three and six-pounders, being distributed among 
the brigades. So long as he could move parallel with the lakes, 
Champlain and George, his guns could be transported on rude 



GATES SUPERSEDES SCHUYLER. 415 

bateaux, but Burgoyne found them vastly in his way when it 
came to dragging them over the stony and narrow mountain 
roads. 

Some of these troops were left behind as garrisons of the cap- 
tured posts, and some changes were made in their brigade organi- 
zation, but the fact must not be lost sight of that the soldierr; of 
Burgoyne were drilled, disciplined, war-tried regulars under ac- 
complished officers. On the 17th of August they were in line, 
facing south within thirty-four miles of Albany, with their advance 
on the same side of the river. At that moment a forward move- 
ment could have been made with far better hopes of success than 
a month later, but, stunned, or at least grievously embarrassed, 
by the disasters to St. Leger and Baume, General Burgoyne 
halted. The American army, poorly equipped, badly clothed 
and shod, and only indifferently armed and instructed, was thrown 
across their path. 

For months the defence of northern New York had been in- 
trusted to a patriotic, energetic and hard-working officer — General 
Philip Schuyler, a man so loyal, so unselfish, so honorable that 
even when relieved from command by a junior who had wronged 
and intrigued against him, he continued to serve faithfully and 
with the greatest zeal, and posterity has rendered him the honors 
he deserved. Daniel Webster himself has said, " I was brought 
up with New England prejudices against him, but I consider him 
second only to Washington in the services he rendered to the 
country in the war of the Revolution." Schuyler was not the 
equal of Greene as a general. It was in his single-hearted devo- 
tion to the best interests of his country that he was second to no 
man. 

On the 19th of August there arrived at the American camp, 
with orders to supersede him. General Horatio Gates, a man who 
had been for some time previous under his command, and who, 
it has since transpired, was industriously engaged in circulating 
all manner of stories to his detriment, and writing all manner of 
unsoldierly letters to congressional and political friends. He was 
a born intriguer — was Gates, and Congress was quite as ready 
to open its ears to men of his low character in the old days of 



416 SARATOGA. 

1776-7, as it was in the nation's bitter struggle of 1 861-5. Gates 
carried his point and many other points with it. He was received 
by Schuyler with the utmost courtesy and respect, which this 
i.'1-bred and malignant general rewarded by excluding him from 
the council of war summoned immediately after the new com- 
mander's arrival. 

And now Congress proceeded to send to its new favorite all 
that it had denied General Schuyler, in money, men and supplies; 
and in his arrogance and success. Gates sent his letters and re- 
ports direct to that body, utterly ignoring the commander-in- 
chief. He had overthrown Schuyler, and it is recorded, was now 
bent on the removal of Washington and the establishment of him- 
self in the general command. Fortunately for the country he 
failed in this. 

After three weeks' delay the army of General Gates moved 
forward and took up a position selected for it by Kosciusko, 
twenty -four miles north of Albany, along the valley of Mill Creek 
and close to the Hudson. Redoubts and earthworks had been 
thrown up on the high ground south of the streams, so that an in- 
trenched camp was formed. Nearly two miles away to the west 
and north was a range of hills or bluffs — Bemis' Heights ; south 
of which flowed Mill Creek and its branches, cutting up the in- 
tervening valley into ugly ravines. Thick forests covered almost 
every portion of the heights, and the country west and north of 
the American camp ; but out opposite the American left, and be- 
tween the north and south forks of Mill Creek, was a cleared en- 
closure and some rude log-houses and barns — Freeman's Farm. 

By the 15th of September the American works were well-nigh 
completed, and were very strong. Behind them, close to the 
river, were the brigades of Nixon, Patterson and Glover, forming 
the right wing. In the centre was Learned's brigade, made up 
of three full Massachusetts and one New York regiment; while 
the left wing — a good-sized division — was composed of three New 
Hampshire and two New York regiments. Dearborn's light in- 
fantry, Connecticut and Rhode Island militia, and the celebrated 
rifle corps, recently organized in the south, of General Daniel 
Morgan. This powerful division was the command of Brigadier- 
General Benedict Arnold. 



BURGOYNE MOVES ON THE AMERICANS. 417 

Turning now to the British camp, we find Burgo}-ne rebuilding 
his bridge of boats across the Hudson. He has been scouring 
the country for supphes, and at last has gathered enough to last 
his dwindling army a month. A few "provincials" remain with 
him in addition to his regular troops, but he has but few vora- 
cious Indian mouths to feed. On the 13th and 14th of Septem- 
ber he crossed the entire army to the west bank, encamped on 
the open ground near old Saratoga. On the 15 th and i6th he 
moved cautiously southward, feeling his way towards the lines 
of Gates and thoroughly scouting the forests to guard against 
surprise. On the 17th he encamped along a line of bluffs north 
of Mill Creek valley, and within four miles of the American in- 
trenchments. On the i8th a rattling fire was kept up most of 
the day between reconnoitring parties as they met in the woods 
and ravines, and on the 19th of September Burgoyne advanced 
to the attack. 

The buildings of Freeman's Farm lay nearly two miles from 
the Hudson. The main road from Saratoga to Albany hugged 
the river bank, but along Bemis' Heights and up Mill Creek val- 
ley there ran three country roads, nearly at right angles to the 
river, and these east and west thoroughfares through the forest 
were connected with one another by winding wood-roads, quite 
practicable at this season for light guns and cavalry. Two well- 
traveled roads led from the American camp towards the north- 
west; one running between Freeman's Farm and the southernmost 
bluff of Bemis' Heights to the west of the farm ; the other fol- 
lowing up the valley of the south fork of Mill Creek. The in- 
stant the pickets reported the British marching down on Free- 
man's Farm, General Gates issued orders sending forward troops 
to ineet them. The designated regiments (mainly from Arnold's 
division) moved out by these northwest roads. Gates himself 
remained in camp. 

The American commander may have judged from the reports 
that the British move was only a " reconnoissance in force ; " 
but, if so, he was in error. Burgoyne left only the Forty-seventh 
Foot to guard the bateaux and camp, sent the Germans under 
Riedesel, and the artillery park under Phillips, by the Albany 
27 



418 SARATOGA. 

road, close to the Hudson. Fraser with the grenadiers, British 
and German, the Hght infantry and the volunteers moved 
around by the road on the heights, so as to be the westernmost 
of the English line, while Burgoyne with four regiments of foot 
marched directly on the farm itself 

Fraser with his disciplined troops was the first to strike our 
hurrying column. His Canadian friends and the provincials went 
scurrying back through the woods the moment they caught sight 
of, and a volley from Morgan's riflemen ; but wheeling to the 
left and facing eastward, Fraser's grenadiers poured several rapid 
volleys into the flank of our forming lines and drove them in 
some little confusion into thicker woods to their right. Here a 
number of the riflemen from the shelter of the trees sent well- 
directed shots at Fraser's tall red-coats and checked their 
advance, while the supporting regiments forming in front of the 
farm arrived just in time to greet with withering volleys the 
centre brigade of the British army as it came marching for- 
ward through the cleared ground. Riedesel and Phillips, hear- 
ing the bursting storm to their right up the valley, turned the 
heads of their columns westward and hurried to the support of 
the centre — and support was needed. Morgan's men with their 
deadly rifles kept Fraser from coming farther towards the east, 
and the firing, which had begun about one o'clock, now at three 
in the afternoon raged around the British brigade fighting for 
life on that unsheltered little plateau. Burgoyne, apprised of 
Fraser's success, had ordered a spirited advance for the purpose 
of turning the American left, but once well out in front of the 
farm buildings he found the woods before, and on both sides of 
him crammed with Arnold's men ; their aim was deadly, their 
fire most destructive, and his volleys crashing among the trees 
seem to have had but little effect. An Englishman hates to fall 
back even when it is death to stand, and the gallant Twentieth 
and Sixty-second Foot were almost annihilated before help came. 
Four light guns manned by forty-eight men were so swept by 
the American fire that they were silenced, thirty-six of the 
battery-men being killed or wounded, and of the infantry force 
not a hundred men were left unhit. The Ninth and Twenty- 



ATTACK ON ARNOLD'S DIVISION. 419 

first regiments supporting them were also severely handled, for 
by this time Arnold had pushed forward his entire division in 
support of the regiments of Scammel and Cilley that had gone 
out at one o'clock to back up Morgan and Dearborn. But by 
this time, too, the British grenadiers and light infantry had 
forced their way into the right of Burgoyne's hard-pushed cen- 
tre ; and Riedesel had worked up the valley and formed line on 
Burgoyne's left. The battle was renewed with great spirit and 
kept up until dark without much advantage to either side ; but 
the whole brunt of the battle had fallen on Arnold's division. 
Gates never gave him any assistance, and kept sedulously out of 
the way himself The British attempted several charges with 
the bayonet, and claim that in the final charge at sunset they 
drove back Arnold's line ; but at dark his division with its guns 
was in perfect order, either to resist further assault or to resume 
the battle on the morrow. The British held Freeman's Farm at 
hight, and extended their lines to the bank of the Hudson along 
the north bank of Mill Creek. They built five strong redoubts 
and brought forward their artillery, so that while their losses 
had been far heavier than those of the Americans they could 
justly claim to have won the day. 

Gates made but brief report of the affair of Freeman's Farm to 
Congress. He had lost sixty-five killed and two hundred and 
fifty wounded and missing. Neither he nor any of his favorite 
generals took any part in the fight, but did their best to belittle 
the conduct of Arnold, who, with Morgan, was entitled to the 
credit of conducting so obstinate and courageous a combat. 

In a few days more the feeling between the commander and 
Arnold broke out into open rupture. Arnold hinted that he 
desired to be relieved, and very promptly was relieved of his 
command ; but before he left the camp the British made their 
second assault upon the American lines, and on the 7th of 
October fought and lost the combat of Bemis' Heights. 

It seems that by the 3d of October, Burgoyne found his sit- 
uation growing critical. He had been unable to drive one divi- 
sion of Continentals at Freeman's Farm, and could not expect 
to be successful against twice or thrice that number. He had 



■420 SARATOGA. 

received only one message from Sir Henry Clinton, announcing 
that he hoped to attack the American forts near West Point 
about the 22d of September. October came and no further 
news ; the men were put on half rations, desertions began to be 
frequent, and on the other hand, every day brought large acces- 
sions to the American force. Far from their base of supplies, the 
, situation of Burgoyne's men was really desperate; and it was 
determined as the only proper course left them to make a 
vigorous attempt to turn the left of General Gates' position, 
or cut their way through in hopes of finding Sir Henry Clinton 
below. The general and his subordinates were of one mind in 
the matter, and the 7th of October was selected for the attempt. 

Leaving strong guards for the intrenchments, the camp and 
hospital, Burgoyne himself, with Generals Phillips, Riedesel and 
Fraser, fifteen hundred picked men and six guns, moved over to 
the right of their line, ;\nd thence advancing, deployed upon a 
comparatively open piece of ground about three-quarters of a 
mile in front of the American left. Here Burgoyne's few allies, 
the "rangers" and Indians, were detached with orders to get 
through the woods around the American left, and attack it from 
the rear. The rest of the command would await the result. 

The British line had formed facing south on the southernmost 
spur of Bemis' Heights, with the Mill Creek road directly in 
their front. The light infantry was on the right, the Hessians 
in the centre, the guns in front and the British grenadiers on the 
extreme left. Watchful eyes among the American pickets had 
seen the entire move; prompt report was sent in to Arnold's old 
division, now commanded by General Lincoln, and quick as ever 
those eager New York, New Hampshire and Massachusetts 
regiments were pushed out to the front, formed line in the woods 
south of the heights, and all of a sudden the grenadiers found 
themselves the victims of vehement and sudden attack. The 
three New Hampshire regiments of Poor's brigade had dashed 
upon their exposed flank. 

Major Ackland made a gallant stand, but was outnumbered 
five to one. The encircling fire swept away his tall soldiers faster 
than he could close his lines. The German grenadiers and Hes- 



BURGOYNE'S ADVANCE REPULSED. 423 

sian jagers from the centre were ordered to hasten to the support 
of their English comrades, but no sooner had they faced to the 
left, to move thither, than they themselves were as vehemently 
assailed from their own front. The brigade of General Learned 
and the Connecticut militia had moved promptly from the oppo- 
site woods and charged the slope opposite Burgoyne's centre. 
In ten minutes Earl Balcarras, of the light infantry, was the only 
battalion commander not hotly engaged, in the entire command; 
and, unknown to him, Morgan with his riflemen had crept around 
his right flank. For half an hour the battle was a series of fu- 
rious charges and counter-charges. The Americans dashed 
through the English guns, killing and wounding most of the 
cannoneers. The English made heroic efforts to recapture them, 
but every instant added to the strength of the Continentals, as 
fresh troops came pouring up from the rear ; every instant added 
to the British losses. General Eraser fell mortally wounded, and 
was carried from the field. Major Ackland was shot down; 
Major Williams seized and taken prisoner. The grenadiers had 
melted away to less than half their number, and Burgoyne, cool, 
brave, skillful, even in despair, ordered his line to fall back. 
Bearing the message to the line, his aide-de-camp, Sir Francis 
Clarke, fell mortally hit. But, pivoting on its left so as to cover 
the intrenchments, and face the foemen 'swarming around their 
right flank, the British force in good order wheeled backwards 
toward the northeast, and retired upon the redoubts and earth- 
works around Freeman's Farm. The guns were left behind. 
The Americans, cheering and exultant, pressed closely upon their 
over-weighted enemy. Then the Germans in the centre broke 
and ran, and nothing but Burgoyne's cool courage and the steady 
front of Balcarras with the light infantry, saved the little army 
from destruction then and there. Phillips, though his guns were 
gone, and Riedesel, though his countrymen had scattered, both 
exhibited devoted bravery, and strove to steady the retreat ; so 
that, thanks to the efforts of these officers, the British reached 
their redoubts in tolerable order. Balcarras moved into those 
near the Farm, and Breyman with the Hessians into the earth- 
work farther to the northwest, and once more faced their pursuers. 



424 SARATOGA. 

It was at this point in the action that Arnold reappeared. He 
had no command, but, all ablaze with excitement, he galloped 
upon the field. His men recognized and cheered him. He drew 
his sword and led the way wherever he saw a chance for attack; 
and the other commanders, knowing his magnetic influence 
among the soldiers, made no attempt to hinder him in any way. 
The battle, which had begun between lines facing north and south, 
had now swung around, so that the British were facing nearly 
west, the Americans rapidly enveloping them. Maddened by his 
rage for battle, Arnold had called on the centre to follow him, 
and led them in a vehement assault on the stockaded redoubt 
held by Balcarras and the British light infantry ; but the islanders 
were here too strong for them. The attack was repulsed, and 
never waiting to renew it, Arnold galloped furiously along the 
line to the left where Morgan's riflemen and Learned's brigade 
were fighting. Again his old men cheered him, and ordering 
Learned's men to follow him, he cleared at a single charge the 
redoubts and earthworks between Balcarras and Breyman, leaving 
the latter " out in the air." Never waiting a moment, he dashed 
still farther to the left opposite this last redoubt, took command 
of Morgan's men and James Livingston's New Yorkers, led them 
squarely at the Hessian-guarded fort, and fell, shot through the 
leg, his horse killed under him in the very entrance, and in the 
moment of victory. There too Breyman was killed, and the 
German soldiers made no farther stand, but broke and ran in 
renewed panic. 

It was well-nigh dark by this time, and the Americans halted 
on the ground they had won, Lincoln's division occupying the 
position ; while Burgoyne, sadly dispirited, fell back to the heights 
near the Hudson, above the north ravine. Being closely pressed 
here on the 8th by the dispositions of General Gates with the 
American right and centre, he that night retreated northward, 
passed through old Saratoga, and occupied a strongly intrenched 
camp at the angle made by the Hudson and Fishkill. His losses 
had been very heavy. He had been compelled to abandon his 
hospital and much baggage, and now his plight was critical in 
the last degree. 



SURRENDER OF THE BRITISH. 427 

The position selected by Burgoyne, for his last stand, was ad- 
mirably adapted for defense. His men, though half starved, were 
brave and devoted. Only about four thousand remained fit for duty 
by the I2th of October, however, and the American army, fully 
thirteen thousand strong, hemmed them in on every side. Ticon- 
deroga had been recaptured, all his communications with the north 
were cut off, no supplies could reach him. Canadians, provin- 
cials and Indians had left him as rats desert a sinking ship. Night 
and day the Americans swept his works with grape and mus- 
ketry, and not a word, after all, had come from Sir Henry Clin- 
ton. There was no help for it. On the 13th of October the 
defeated general sent a flag to Gates, asking for terms of capitu- 
lation for his starving army; and the first reply of the American 
general was of so humiliating a character, that Burgoyne sent 
word that sooner than comply with such terms the British army 
would die to a man. By the 1 6th, however, General Gates re- 
lented, and far more considerate terms were offered and accepted. 
The troops were to march out with all the honors of war ; were 
to pile their arms near the river bank at the word of command 
of their own' officers ; officers were to retain their side-arms and 
personal baggage, and all were to be given free passage to Eng- 
land upon condition of not serving again during the war. 

That very night Captain Campbell, of the British army, reached 
camp with the long-expected despatches from Sir Henry Clinton, 
announcing the capture of Forts Clinton and Montgomery, and 
that an expedition was on its way for the relief of Burgoyne ; but 
it was too late. The English general had given his word, and he 
stood by it. On the 17th of October his entire force, sick and 
well, was formally surrendered, and five thousand seven hundred 
and sixty-three men became prisoners of war. 

All historians unite in saying that the Americans behaved on 
this occasion with the utmost courtesy and kindness to their de- 
feated enemy. No signs of exultation, no demonstration that 
might wound the feelings of their brave but unlucky foemen, 
were permitted. 

Congress refused to abide by some of the terms accorded to 
Burgoyne, and his army was marched to Charlotteville in Vir 



428 



SARATOGA. 



ginia during the severe winter that followed, and it is said that 
most of them decided to settle in America, and did so on the 
closing of the war. 

" Nothing succeeds like success." General Gates became, for 
the time being, the hero of the American people, and the men 
who had labored hard to bring the army into the state of disci- 
pline in which he found it, were temporarily forgotten. The 
hero of the two engagements, Arnold, received his commission 
as major-general, together with a most flattering letter from 
Washington himself His wound for some time prevented his 
taking part in active service, and when he did return to duty 
— the country knows too well the story of his treason. 

Saratoga broke the back-bone of British aggression. New 
York, lying midway between the frontiers of the rebellion, as our 
English ancestors called it, would have been completely won to 
the British cause had those two armies, Burgoyne's and Clinton's, 
united at Albany. The cause of America would have been cut 
in two, and there would have been no life left to us. As it was, 
hope, courage and strength revived. The news of our decisive 
victory flew across the ocean fast as sail could take it, and then 
France threw off her mask and came to our aid. Saratoga 
turned the scale for independence and the great future of 
America. 




MEDAL AWARDED TO GEN. GATES BY CONGRESS, I777. 



MARENGO. 




1800. 



' T the very time that the colonies of North America 
were in the midst of their struggle for indepen- 
dence from England, there was admitted to the 
military school of Brienne, France, as a king's 
pensioner, a sallow, sad-faced, ten-year-old boy 
from Corsica. The little fellow's name was 
Buonaparte. His father was what would now- 
a-days be termed a persistent office-seeker, and 
he was so fortunate as to secure the aid of the governor- 
general of the island, and through his influence to obtain 
cadetships for his sons Joseph and Napoleon. The former 
was destined for the church, the latter for the navy. The 
former studying under the Bishop of Autun suddenly devel- 
oped a desire to enter the army. The latter studying at Brienne 
became so disheartened with his surroundings, that he begged 
his father to take him from the school with its military asso- 
ciations and let him turn his hand to anything else ; but the 
boys were kept at their work. It was in April, 1779, that 
Napoleon entered Brienne. He could then barely speak — he 
never could write — the French language. He passed the pre- 
liminary examination after a fashion, speedily showed some 
capacity for mathematics, geography and history, had no ability 
at all in Latin, and from the very start was solitary, dreamy and 
morose in his habits ; he hardly had a friend at the school. 

In October, 1784, young Buonaparte passed his closing exami- 
nation at Brienne and was passed on to the military school al 
Paris. " Character imperious, domineering and self-willed," was 
what the inspectors wrote on his papers. Here at the more 

429 



430 MARENGO. 

advanced school, the solitary young Corsican was employed in 
studying modern languages, history, mathematics and fortifica- 
tion, and was instructed to a limited extent in drawing, dancing, 
fencing and riding. He had one friend and companion, a fellow- 
cadet named Alexandre des Mazis, son of a poor soldier of for- 
tune. He had dozens of tormentors and almost enemies among 
the cadets, especially among those who, like De Rohan, De 
Marcillac and De Montmorency, belonged to the wealthy nobility. 
When only fifteen years of age the little Corsican, not yet four 
feet eleven inches in height, had imbibed a hatred for aristocrats 
and aristocracy. He turned out to be, to the full, as haughty 
and exacting as the worst of them. 

Cadets of the Royal Military School at Paris were entitled to 
their brevets of second lieutenant when reaching the age of 
sixteen, provided they could pass a not very difficult examina- 
tion. Only those of very studious dispositions seemed to care 
for the scientific branches of the service, the engineers and artil- 
lery. The wealthy and high-born preferred the dash and excite- 
ment of cavalry life ; the indolent, the plodding existence of an 
infantry garrison. Napoleon Buonaparte was sensitive to the 
last degree about his poverty, and now that he had given up the 
idea of becoming a sailor, early decided that the cavalry would 
be no place for him. For the infantry service he had a contempt. 
"An infantry officer," he wrote, " wastes two-thirds of his time 
in dissipation," and the Corsican cadet resolved to try for the 
artillery. He passed, but only a moderately good examination. 
Fifly-eight young men were commissioned in the army from the 
Military School of Paris in the summer of 1785, and among 
those fifty-eight the future conqueror of Europe stood forty- 
second. He was assigned to the Regiment de la Fere at Va- 
lence, a regiment of heavy artillery. Young des Mazis was ordered 
thither with him, and so poor was the Corsican graduate that 
autumn, that after trying in vain to borrow money from a cloth 
merchant who occasionally lent it to young gentlemen of the 
school. Lieutenant Napoleon Buonaparte — de Buonaparte as he 
then called himself — made the journey to Valence at the expense 
of his poor but generous comrade. 



NAPOLEON LIEUTENANT OF ARTILLERY. 431 

This was what the examiners of the afterwards greatest gen 
eral of the world wrote of him in September, 1785: 

" Reserved and studious; he prefers study to any amusement, 
and enjoys reading the best authors. . . . He is silent and loves 
solitude. He is capricious, haughty and excessively egotistical: 
has great pride and ambition, aspires to anything. The young 
man is worthy of patronage." 

The prospects before Napoleon Buonaparte in 1785 were not 
alluring. His total income did not amount to five hundred 
dollars a year. He could not hope to be a captain until he had 
served fifteen years as a subaltern. He soon learned to hate the 
routine of garrison life. His health suffered. He asked and 
obtained incessant leaves of absence, visited Corsica and domi- 
neered over his brothers and sisters, became involved in various 
political intrigues and schemes with disaffected islanders, one of 
which had for its object the expulsion of all Frenchmen from 
Corsica. He was absent without leave nearly four months. 
In fine, he was anything but a model lieutenant of artillery even 
in the days of lax discipline which preceded the great French 
revolution, and when that revolution came on, he promptly de- 
clared for the popular side as against the monarchists. 

It was the French revolution which gave to young Buona- 
parte his first real start in his profession. It cost him some 
trouble and a good deal of ingenuity to provide satisfactory ex- 
cuses to the military authorities for his protracted absences and 
evasions of duty ; but the nation was then in need of educated 
officers. Buonaparte was one, and he suddenly found himself a 
captain of artillery after only six years of very indifferent ser- 
vice as lieutenant, since more than half the time he had been 
absent with or without leave. Under ordinary circumstances he 
would have been court-martialed and dismissed; but the 
Buonapartes were exiles from Corsica by this time, and the 
brothers Joseph and Napoleon were not backward in demanding 
commissions under the popular government. Toulon was then 
being besieged. Napoleon was sent thither as a junior captain 
to help manage the batteries. On the road from Marseilles, the 
republican troops met the enemy at Olioulles. The English 



432 



MARENGO. 



and Spaniards beat back the French. Then came a rally, a 
fresh advance, and the French were victorious ; but trivial as the 
affair was in point of casualties it had this result : of the two 
men wounded and disabled, one was Donmartin, chief of artil- 
lery, and though not next in rank by any means, Buonaparte 
was on the ground, pushed for his place and got it. He 
appeared at the siege of Toulon as major of the Second regi- 
ment of artillery. And now began his career of phenomenal 
success. 

In less than four months after his promotion to the majority, 
Toulon was taken, and no man had been more distinguished for 
skill and ability than young Buonaparte. Brave old General 
Dugommier, in his report, mentioned his name first of all, and in 
February, 17^4, Napoleon became a general of brigade. He 
was not yet twenty-five. 

Powerful and influential men — Robespierre, Barras and Sali- 
cetti, the latter a Corsican — were backing him by this time. 
His vehement ambition was now aroused to feverish activity. 
He kept in constant correspondence with the Directoiy, urging, 
planning, suggesting, criticizing. He was sent on many mis- 
sions requiring tact and skill. Everj-thing he did proved bril- 
liant; everything he wrote was bold and telling. He was called 
to Paris as defender of the convention, and when 30,000 na- 
tional guardsmen attempted to force the palace of the Tuileries, 
he mowed them down remorselessly with grape-shot, and, as 
his reward, was made general-in-chief of the army of the in- 
terior, with his headquarters at Paris. In March, 1796, he was 
sent to take supreme command of the Army of Italy, as the 
French forces operating against the Austrians southeast of the 
Alps were then called. He found but 36,000 half-starved, half- 
naked soldiers, but with them he took the field, and in a brief 
campaign of wonderful dash, daring and brilliancy, he ruined an 
army of 75,000 foemen, winning the stirring battles of Monte- 
notte, Mondovl and Lodi. Five armies, one after another, all 
under accomplished generals, all greatly outnumbering his, 
were sent against him by Austria, and the world was amazed at 
die marvellous skill and rapidity with which he met and over- 




NAPOLEON ON THE BRIDGE AT ARCOLA. {E. Brigard.) 



THE IDOL OF THE FRENCH NATION. 435 

threw them. Utterly beaten, Austria, in October, 1797, sued for 
peace, gave up to France the Netherlands and Lombardy, and 
Napoleon went back to Paris the idol of the nation. 

Then came his Egyptian campaign; the spirited battle of the 
Pyramids; the storm of Jaffa and Acre; then his hurried recall to 
Paris, for the nation was disturbed by the menace of many foes ; 
and now, as First Consul under the new constitution of the 
French republic. Napoleon took up his residence at the palace 
of the Tuileries and became ruler of the destinies of France. 
But he was in no mood to remain in Paris when the glory and 
excitement of battle called him to the field. Austria was again 
at war with the young republic. Moreau, with a small but 
powerful army, was defending the frontier along the Rhine, and 
Napoleon, assembling with remarkable secrecy and speed an- 
other army of 36,000 on Lake Geneva, began in May, 1800, his 
wonderful passage of the Alps, following the example if not the 
actual footsteps of his great predecessor Hannibal. On the 2d 
of June, to the amaze of the Austrians, he had entered Milan, 
and was again ready to give them battle on the old campaigning 
ground, the beautiful valley of the Po. 

The venerable Baron de Melas was the Austrian commander 
in northern Italy. He had brought thither with him an army 
of nearly 125,000 men. At least 30,000 of these were occupied 
in the siege of Genoa, where for weeks the brave French General 
Massena, with only some 8,000 soldiers, had been holding on, 
despite starvation and suffering, in hopes that the First Consul 
might come to the rescue. But Napoleon needed the forces of 
General Moncey from the north before he felt able to act against 
such strength as that of de Melas, and Genoa had to go. When 
the little army of defenders had eaten even their horses, mules 
and boots, Massena capitulated, and was allowed to march out 
with the honors of war. This left de Melas free to concentrate 
a large army on Napoleon, and forthwith Alessandria, in Pied- 
mont, and Placentia, southeast of Milan, on the Po, were desig- 
nated as the points on which his scattered corps and divisions 
were to assemble. 

But Napoleon too was concentrating. He was himself at 



436 MARENGO. 

Milan, between de Melas and Austria, and determined to give 
the imperialist a severe lesson before reinforcements could reach 
him, or before he could get back homewards. Three superb 
generals were there in readiness to carry out any orders the 
First Consul might give — Murat, Lannes and Victor; and to 
Lannes fell the duty of blocking the Austrian attempt with 
18,000 men to burst through the pass of Stradella and reach 
Placentia. AH unaided, with only 12,000 men, the gallant gen- 
eral fought and won the brilliant battle of Montebello, driving 
General Ott back upon Alessandria with heavy loss. 

Then Napoleon hastened from iVIilan across the Po to Stra- 
della in order to prevent Baron de Melas from breaking through 
to Placentia, in case he should attack the French lines in strong 
force. 

Alessandria and Placentia lie on the south bank of the Po, 
very nearly sixty miles apart by road — Alessandria being a 
little south of west from Placentia, and Milan being to the north 
at the apex of a triangle formed by imaginary lines joining the 
three cities, the sides being a little shorter than the base, for 
Milan is not more than thirty miles north of the Po. Stradella 
lay twenty miles west of Placentia, and here the bold foot-hills 
of the Apennines come nearly down to the river, so that the 
high-road was built through what was practically a defile, and 
here Napoleon posted the corps of Lannes and Victor, and the 
cavalry of Murat, to confront Melas and the Austrian army 
should they strive to come that way. 

Now there was every reason why the Austrian general should 
seek an immediate pitched battle with the French. He had 
great superiority in numbers and in cavalry and artillery, he had 
two hundred guns well manned, horsed and equipped. Napo- 
leon was very short of guns. He had been able to bring very 
few across the Alps, and as an artillery officer, educated to have 
a high trust in this arm, he felt his weakness keenly. It was 
the very best opportunity yet afforded an Austrian commander 
to crush the young upstart who had so humbled their proud 
empire, and de Melas determined to make the effort. 

On the other hand, the French had so invariably routed the 



WATCHING THE AUSTRIANS. 437 

Austrians, no matter how many there might be of them, that a 
feeling of perfect confidence possessed the entire army; and Na- 
poleon himself was oppressed with a fear that Melas might at- 
tempt to escape northward, or move southward through the Apen- 
nines to the walls of conquered Genoa, and so avoid a fight until 
great reinforcements could reach him. Napoleon was far from 
France ; Melas was but a short distance from Austria. Aid could 
reach the latter long before it could the former, and Napoleon 
felt that the decisive battle must be fought at once. 

The loth and i ith of June were passed in watching the move- 
ments of the Austrians, in concentrating his small army near 
Stradella, and resting the divisions after the long marches some 
had had to make. On the l ith, in the person of a single general, 
there reached Napoleon a reinforcement that was worth a division 
of veterans — his tried, trusted and valiant comrade, Desaix; a 
man who loved his young commander with almost passionate 
devotion — a sentiment that Napoleon, who was pre-eminently a 
judge of men, was careful to cultivate and to utilize. Of the 
brilliant generals of France at this time, Kleber, Moreau, Massena, 
Lannes and Desaix, none stood higher as soldiers than the last 
named, and even Lannes did not love Napoleon so well. Kleber 
was in Egypt, chief in command ; Moreau on the Rhine ; Mas- 
sena had just surrendered Genoa, after a superb defence against 
every foe, even disease and starvation ; Lannes was with Napo- 
leon, and now came Desaix, burning with eagerness for imme- 
diate employment. He was at once put in command of a corps 
made up of the divisions of Monnier and Boudet. 

Up to noon on the 12th of June, the First Consul watched and 
waited, but no enemy appeared to assault his lines. Then he 
could wait no longer, but, at the head of his entire force, broke 
camp, marched westward along the high road, bivouacked for the 
night at Voghera ; kept on westward the next morning, crossed 
the little stream known as the Scrivia, flowing northward into 
the Po, and marched boldly out upon the broad, level, far-reach- 
ing plain that lay between the Apennines and the Po, the Scrivia 
and the broader Bormida — the historic plain of Marengo. 

Where the high road, skirting the base of the Apennines, falls 



438 MARENGO. 

back from the Po after passing westward through Stradella, the 
valley flattens out towards the north, and a level tract of coun- 
try spreads, far as the eye can reach, from the foot-hills towards 
the river. At Tortona the road turns abruptly to the west, mak- 
ing almost a right angle with its track, crosses the Scrivia, passes 
through a little village called San Giuliano, and strikes out square 
across the plain for the walls and fortifications of Alessandria, 
some fifteen miles away. Northward all is flat as a floor, rather 
dreary and desolate. Southward the rolling, tumbling masses 
of the Apennines give shelter in their valleys to numbers of lit- 
tle hamlets, and through one of these, Novi, passes a broad high- 
way to Genoa that joins the main road just before it crosses the 
Bormida, which empties into the Po to the east, and almost under 
the guns of Alessandria. Out on the main road, a league from 
San Giuliano and near the Bormida, stood a little village — Ma- 
rengo. 

Now if the Austrians were still in force at Alessandria, they 
would be sure to have outposts on the plain and strong guards at 
the bridge across the Bormida. The French hussars scoured the 
plain east, north and south of Marengo and found nothing. Na- 
poleon, pushing ahead with Victor's corps along the highway, 
came in sight of the village towards night-fall of the 13th of 
June, and then, and not until then, the brisk rattle of musketry 
indicated that something had been discovered of the Austrians. 
It was nothing but an out-lying brigade that fell rapidly back 
pursued by the cavalry, and escaped in the darkness across the 
Bormida. The cavalry sent in word that the bridge across the 
Bormida was not held by the Austrians in force. If that were so, 
what could have become of them ? Leaving Victor with the di- 
visions of Gardanne and Chambarlhac in and around Marengo, 
the First Consul rode back, turned Lannes' corps out into the 
open plain where he could bivouac for the night; posted Murat 
with all the cavalry close by Lannes, then galloped for the head 
of Desaix's corps, just entering the plain from the east. " March 
south, take Boudet and his division, go to Novi, and if the Aus- 
trians are moving that way, hold them and send for me," were 
the orders rapidly issued; and prompt and eager, Desaix and his 



AUSTRIA'S ATTEMPTED FLANK MOVEMENT. 



441 



one strong division turned down towards the Apennines and were 
soon out of sight. Napoleon himself retained Monnier's division 
and his own horse and foot-guards with him. He intended going 
back to Voghera, where he hoped for news from his watchful 
generals along the Po and the Tessino ; but, to his annoyance, 
he found the Scrivia suddenly swollen to such a torrent that he 
could not cross, and so was compelled to spend the night on its 
western bank, instead of twelve miles farther east at Voghera, 
where he wanted to be. It little occurred to him that he would 
be needed right there on the plain early on the coming day. The 
night of the 13th of June the French army was widely scattered; 
Victor around Marengo, Lannes and Murat out on the plain, 
Monnier and the guard under Bessieres back at the Scrivia, and 
Desaix far southward toward Novi. The Austrian army, 40,000 
strong (with 10,000 more within supporting distance in the garri- 
sons of Acqui, Tortona and the valley of the upper Po), was con- 
centrated in Alessandria, and determined with the dawn of day 
to sally forth and cut its way through to Placentia. 

Now if Napoleon had known the plan of the Baron de Melas, 
he could have crushed him before eight o'clock on the following 
morning. There were only two narrow bridges, covered by one 
bridge-head or field-work, across the Bormida, and the entire Aus- 
trian army had to cross them in long column. General Ott, witli 
5 ,000 cavalry and 5 ,000 foot, was to turn to the left (northward) 
after crossing, strike at the village of Castel-Ceriolo, which lay 
about a mile north of Marengo, and so " turn " Vict®r's right 
fl ink, while Generals Haddick and Kaim, with the main body, 
: DOO strong, should assault along the high road and storm Ma- 
rengo, directly in front. General Oreilly, with 6,000 men, was to 
move a short distance up the Bormida and attack the left of the 
French position, and the whole movement was to be supported 
by the two hundred guns, while a large body of cavalry and 
guards remained in reserve under the fortifications of Alessandria. 
It would have been an easy matter for Napoleon to let a few di- 
visions of the enemy cross the stream, then fall on them from 
front and both flanks, and crush them out of existence while 
their conirades were held helplessly on the opposite shore ; but 



442 MARtNGO. 

he had good reason to believe they were making off in some 
other direction, and did not in the least expect their coming over 
the Bormida. 

And so it happened that with the dawn of the 14th, Oreilly, 
with his 6,000 men and half a dozen powerful light batteries, si- 
lently and stealthily marched over the bridges through the eddy- 
ing mist, deployed on the eastern bank, and were about to move 
southward in accordance with their orders so as to make room 
for Haddick, when they were suddenly discovered by the French 
pickets. A lively fire began at once between the Austrian flankers 
and the outposts of Victor's corps. The trumpets of the French 
rang out the alarm in the bivouacs of Marengo. " To arms " 
was taken up and resounded over the plain, and Gardanne's little 
division of infantry came jauntily out from among its watch-fires 
to ascertain what was going on at the Bormida. It was then too 
late for Oreilly to think of moving off by the flank. Unlimbering 
his batteries he turned savagely upon Gardanne, overwhelmed 
him with a storm of grape and musketry, and after a brief but 
most ineffectual stand, the astonished division was driven back 
to the shelter of the village walls, vastly perplexed and badly 
crippled. So sudden, so severe was the onslaught of the Aus- 
trians that the Frenchmen believed that the entire army was al- 
ready across the river and about to assault; and, seeing Gar- 
danne's shattered condition, Victor made no effort to find out the 
actual state of the case, but began instant preparations for a 
vigorous defence of the position intrusted to him. 

And so passed a golden moment. The oversight came near 
proving the death-blow of the cause of France, for while Victor 
was engaged in strengthening the walls and hedge-rows of the 
village, battery after battery, brigade after brigade of Austrians 
kept crossing the bridges and deploying in his front, Oreilly 
meantime keeping up a lively fire, and occupying the attention 
of the French. Two mortal hours did it take Haddick and 
Kaim to cross and deploy their divisions. Then Ott with his 
10,000 hurried over and went on down to the open fields tow- 
ards Castel-Ceriolo, and now, without waiting for Ott to reach 
his position, covered by the thundering fire of his batteries, 
Melas ordered Haddick and Kaim to assault Marengo. 



STUBBORN DEFENCE OF THE FRENCH. 443 

Unluckily for the Austrians there lay just west of the village 
a deep, muddy ditch through which flowed a sluggish stream 
called La Fontanone. It made a semi-circular sweep with the 
concave side toward the Bormida, into which it flowed not far 
below Marengo. It was a natural obstacle of great value to the 
French, as it broke up the assaulting columns, and gave time for 
Lannes to form his lines in support of Victor. All told, the 
French had on the ground not more than 18,000 men to oppose 
36,000 until Napoleon could arrive, and the preponderance of 
field-guns on the Austrian side was simply demoralizing. But 
Victor was a stubborn fighter, and, despite the terrible cannonade 
which preceded the assault, he posted Gardanne's broken but 
still valiant brigades in the village itself; upon its left Chani- 
barlhac's three brigades, the Twenty-fourth, Forty-third and 
Ninety-sixth; and a little in rear and in support were stationed 
the Second, Eighth and Twentieth regiments of cavalry under 
their gallant and accomplished leader, Kellerman. 

Lannes moved up with his one division, that of Watrin, and 
formed on Victor's right, his lines extending towards Castel- 
Ceriolo, and even as he was marching into position the shock 
came on the centre. Marengo was shrouded in the smoke of a 
half-score of batteries. 

With the Austrian division of Bellegarde in advance, General 
Haddick charged impetuously at the flashing walls and hedge- 
rows held by Gardanne's men. The Fontanone, with its muddy 
bed, aided by the storm of bullets, threw the column into dis- 
order despite all efforts of its officers. Seeing this, the French 
General Rivaud leaped forward with the Forty-fourth and One 
Hundred and First " demi brigades," and with desperate and 
determined bravery, crowded upon the very lines as they strove 
to form, and hurled them back into the ditch. Three times 
General Haddick rallied and led forward his struggling divi- 
sions, but they could not shake the thin French line on the other 
bank, their artillery could not help them in such a melee, and at 
last the Austrians gave way, broke in rout and tumult for the 
rear, bearing with them the body of their now mortally stricken 
general. Haddick had received his death-wound, one-fourth 



444 MARENGO. 

of the division Bellegarde was stretched bleeding upon the banks 
of the Fontanone, and the first attack on IVIarengo was a flat 
md dismal failure. 

Then Melas made his second attempt. Kaim's division was 
ordered to relieve the shattered brigades of Haddick in front of 
the village ; Oreilly was sent well up the Bormida and ordered 
to cross the Fontanone with all Pilatis' brigade of cavalry and 
charge vehemently upon the left of the French lines, while a 
new and more powerful attack was made by Kaim's fresh troops 
along the highway. Once more the Austrian guns were brought 
to bear along the entire front, and grape and round shot were 
hurled at the devoted village, battering down walls and fences, and 
sending splintered rocks flying in every direction. The hamlet 
was almost untenable, yet the gallant Frenchmen clung to it; for 
so long as they could hold Marengo, there was one point £j least 
on which to rest the line ; with Marengo gone, there was nothing. 
Their little force would be driven out on the open plain among 
the wheat fields, and there cut off by cavalry or mowed down 
by the bellowing guns of the Austrians. 

Encouraged by the success of their early defence, both Gar- 
danne and Chambarlhac had advanced to the edge of the Fonta- 
none, and when Kaim's fresh columns moved to the assault, 
received them with a converging, fire of musketry that proved 
of terrible effect. At the same time, brave Kellerman with his 
horsemen received word of the flank movement of Oreilly, and, 
moving over south of the road, came in sight of squadrons of 
the Twelfth regiment of cavalry slowly retiring before Pilatis' 
overwhelming numbers. There lay the broad level of the plain 
of Marengo, the very place for cavalry manoeuvres ; there, plung- 
ing through the Fontanone, came the gay squadrons of Austria's 
dashing hussars, the most renowned light horsemen of Europe 
at this time, each regiment being gorgeously uniformed, and 
mounted on the finest horses money could buy. On this sight, 
Kellerman's grim troopers in their sombre dragoon dress of 
dark blue, gazed a moment with eager eyes, then their trumpets 
sounded the charge, and with one impulse the three massive 
regiments bore down on the jaunty horsemen of the empire. 




BATTLE OF THE PYRAMIDS, {F. Lix.) 



FORCING THE FONTANONE. 447 

Kellerman had well chosen the moment, for the Austrians were 
not reformed after the passage of the Fontanone, and the charge 
struck home with terrific force and effect. The gay hussars 
and lancers were tumbled over like ten-pins, and rolled i:- the 
mud of the treacherous ditch. Their array was ruined, dozens 
were sabred or crushed to death, many prisoners were taken, 
and Pilatis' cavalry attack wound up in grievous disaster. 

But by this time it was nearly ten o'clock. Gardanne and 
Chambarlhac were well-nigh exhausted. Defending the line of 
the Fontanone, they had been alternately subjected to hand-to- 
hand conflicts with outnumbering battalions of fresh troops, or 
the crashing fire of the Austrian batteries. The slaughter on 
both sides had been fearful, and with all their daring and deter- 
mination it was evident to Victor that he could not much longei 
resist the ceaseless assaults on Marengo. Down to his right, the 
one division which constituted the entire command of Lannes, 
after gallantly beating off direct attacks, now found itself con- 
fronted by fresh and eager troops and outflanked by the superior 
numbers of General Ott, who had succeeded in working through 
Castel-Ceriolo and now appeared on Lannes' right and rear. 
Here the battle raged fiercely for some time. Ott had 5,000 fine 
cavalry, and these he launched out from behind the village, and 
a stirring cavalry combat took place between them and the brig- 
ade of Champeaux, who was supporting Lannes. The French 
horsemen made charge after charge, breaking in and through the 
Austrian squadrons, but failed to drive them from the field — 
their numbers were far too great. Just at this time, too, the Aus- 
trian engineers succeeded in throwing a trestle bridge over the 
FontaHone. Rivaud with the Forty-fourth rushed out from Ma- 
rengo to destroy it, but his little command, became the target for 
three-score of field-guns; it was horribly cut up; Rivaud him- 
self was mortally wounded ; the survivors were driven back ; the 
Austrian grenadiers swarmed over the bridge and, mingling with 
Rivaud's retreating lines, went into the village with them, 
following up their advantage by pouring columns on the cen- 
tre, fast as they could hurry them in. Once, though dying, Ri- 
vaud drove them back, but not for long ; fainting from loss of blood, 



448 MARENGO. 

he was borne to the rear. Then Chambarlhac's men, unable to 
bear up longer against the terrible storm of grape-shot, gave way 
and came drifting back over the plain. Oreilly made an impetuous 
rush on the French left, nearly engulfing the Ninety-sixth, and 
then began pouring around the left flank ; and now, with the cen- 
tre pierced and both flanks turned, it was time' for the French 
to go. All was lost save honor. Gallant Champeaux rode in 
for one more desperate charge towards Castel-Ceriolo, and it 
was the last, for the brave soldier received his death-wound, and 
there was no one left to rally his men. 

It was now ten o'clock. Hundreds of Victor's corps were al- 
ready in full retreat eastward along the highway. The route was 
thronged with wounded and stragglers ; all was disorder, con- 
fusion and dismay, when " the man of destiny " — the great leader 
himself — came trotting on the scene. With him came the horse- 
guards in their towering bearskin shakos ; behind them marched 
the compact little band of the consular guard ; still further be- 
hind, the division of Monnier. He came just in time, for Gar- 
danne, desperately clinging to the walls and ditches of the village, 
had well-nigh exhausted his last cartridge and was loosening 
his hold ; but the sight of that calm and impassive face, the pres- 
ence of the hitherto indomitable young general, the disciplined 
valor of the guards, brought renewed hope and courage to the 
French. The Austrian cavaliy were at the moment charging 
hither and thither over the plain, for vast numbers had told upon 
the firm valor of Murat's horsemen, and wherever the latter 
showed front, they were stormed at by the guns now advanced 
to the curved line of the Fontanone. The whole effort of Melas 
was directed on the task of breaking down the one barrier to his 
triumphant passage — the stony ruin of Marengo ; but there Gar- 
danne still fought behind the shattered walls, though now cling- 
ing only to the outer edge of the village ; and, just as Napoleon 
arrived upon the scene, with one overpowering rush the Austrian 
lines swarmed over the Fontanone in front of the enfiladed ranks 
of Lannes ; the grenadiers of Vienna burst through the last 
hedge-row in the village, and, charged and broken up by the ex- 
ultant hussars, the bleeding and exhausted Frenchmen fell slowly 



SUPERB COURAGE OF LANNES. 449 

back along the whole front. At last — at last the victorious 
standards of the Republic were destined to defeat. Marengo 
was lost. 

But Napoleon proved as great in adversity as hitherto he had 
shown himself in the height of triumph. Throwing the foot- 
guards into squares out on the open plain, he himself stood with 
them in defiant resistance of the Austrian horse. Their cool, 
well-aimed volleys emptied hundreds of saddles, and hurled back 
upon their infantry supports the thronging squadrons in the gay, 
gold-laced jackets. Lannes withdrew his few guns in safety, and 
opened furiously on the advancing footmen of Kaim's division. 
Monnier's three brigades, fresh and impetuous, were directed to 
the right on Castel-Ceriolo, and there made sturdy stand against 
Ott's further movements ; but the left, the southern extremity of 
the line, was gone irrevocably, and Oreilly's men, in vigorous 
pursuit, were pushing along the highway. Seeing this — seeing 
his line of retreat threatened, his communication with Desaix 
cut off, the First Consul abandoned the idea that had first occurred 
to him, that of "pivoting " on Castel-Ceriolo, and swinging hi''. 
whole line around so as to draw back the shattered left, fac<^ 
southward, permit the Austrians to march out along the high 
way they coveted, and then perhaps attack them in flank. The 
highway was lost already, but worse than that, the left wing was 
so completely ruined that all order or formation was gone. F^r 
to the rear, Murat with the reserve cavalry was striving to stem 
the current of their flight, reorganize their commands, and at the 
same time beat back the horsemen from Oreilly's division, who 
scoured the plain south of the road and sabred all who fell in 
their way. 

On the right, the superb courage and steadiness of Lannes 
and his division saved the army from destruction. Had this 
part of the line gone as had the rest, de Melas could have 
ordered forward all his horse batteries and cavalry, and turned 
retreat into absolute panic and rout ; but Napoleon himself 
stood with Lannes, and as the Austrians in well-ordered lines 
marched simultaneously forth from Marengo and Castel-Ceriolc? 
and with eighty rapidly handled guns swept forward to com 



450 MAKENGO. 

plete the ruin they had made, the First Consul himself, Lannes, 
ivith the division of Watrin, and Kellerman, with the remnant of 
his cavalry, covered and directed the retreat. Austria had in- 
deed won the day, but what was left of the French army was 
undaunted. In vain the batteries stormed, and the dragoons of 
Lobkowitz and hussars of Frimont charged their squares. Right 
and left their comrades were in flight, but the guardsmen and 
the firm infantry of Watrin breasted every shock, recoiling but 
never breaking. By noon Marengo was left far in rear, the 
plain was strewn with dead and dying aqd covered with a thick 
pall of smoke ; but even now the Austrians dared not press too 
close, for startling explosions that filled the air with hurtling 
fragments ©f wood and iron occurred every moment. Lannes 
was blowing up the caissons he could not carry away. 

And now de Melas conceived the battle won. Worn out 
with fatigue and anxiety, but all triumph and eagerness, he 
rode back to Alessandria to send despatches to the capitals of 
Europe, announcing that the great general of France had suf- 
fered ignominous defeat. His chief of staff, de Zach, was left 
on the field to conduct the pursuit, and de Zach, sharing the 
belief of his commander that there was no more fight in France 
that day, drew in his extended battle-lines, formed his columns 
on and near the highway, and pushed on eastward towards San 
Giuliano. Even the baggage was ordered up. Latterman's 
grenadiers took the lead on the road. • Oreilly, Kaim and Ott 
marched on the flanks, and, determined not to halt until he had 
driven the French across the Scrivia, and gone well on his own 
way towards Placentia, the Austrian staff-ofificer rode blithely 
forward. 

But " he reckoned without his host," and — Desaix. There was 
salvation yet for France, but only the best of soldierly impulse 
could develop it. Turning his burning eyes southward across 
the plain. Napoleon looked longingly towards the cool green 
heights of the Apennines, to the shadowy slopes where miles 
away lay Novi, whither the night before he had despatched his 
trusted general. He could not have reached there ; he could 
not have gone more than two-thirds of the way before halting 



DESAIX TO THE RESCUE. 451 

for the night to rest his men. Where was he now ? Could he 
be recalled in time ? The wind had been blowing southward 
since early morn. He must have heard the booming of the 
guns behind him; must have divined that his chief was attacked 
by the very army he had been sent southward in search of; must 
have known that Napoleon stood in sore need of his supporting 
arm. But orders required him to march to Novi and search 
there for de Melas. Many another general would have argued 
that he had no choice but to obey to the letter ; would have 
turned his back on the thunder of the distant guns booming 
their recall on the misty plain below, would have marched on, 
away from the fight where honor called him, and then defended 
it by saying, those were his orders. Not so Desaix. 

At the break of day he had heard the first rumble of the bat- 
tle thunder, and all the soldier in him leaped to life at the sound. 
Springing to horse he had ridden out to a point whence he 
could better listen to the faint tidings from the north, tidings 
that speedily said to him : " De Melas is not on the road to 
Genoa. He will not be found at Novi. He is here — here in 
force ; we are but a handful against him. Come back ! come 
back ! " His men were worn and tired. Late into the previous 
night, all the previous day, they had been marching, marching, 
but this was no time to think of blistered feet and aching legs. 
Calling to Savary, he bade him take a couple of squadrons, 
gallop to Novi, scour the neighborhood, satisfy himself whether 
the Austrians had or had not gone that way, then rejoin him 
with all speed. Then his division was roused; breakfast, such 
as it was, was served ; ranks were formed, and Desaix stood 
ready to march. Soon couriers came foaming back from 
Savary, " No signs of Austrians towards Novi," and sending 
aides-de-camp ahead to tell him of his coming, Desaix faced 
towards Napoleon and marched for the sound of the guns. 

It was the deed of a soldier and a grand one. 

All day he marched, reaching the skirts of the broad plain 
about two hours after meridian, and directing his column on 
San Giuliano, he pushed ahead, full gallop, in search of his 
beloved chief Those who saw it never tired of telling how the 



452 MARENGO. 

pallid, impassive features of the great conqueror beamed witli 
hope, delight and the new-born fire of battle as Desaix, covered 
with dust and sweat, spurred through the group of generals and 
staff-officers and saluted his commander. " I am here, men 
general," and Desaix here meant Desaix with all his men. 
Eagerly they swarmed about him, the battle-worn veterans. 
Few retained any hope. Marengo was lost. One-fourth of the 
army lay dead or wounded around its burning walls, now three 
miles behind them; and out along the highway, across the 
broad plain, came the solid masses of Austria. Already those 
dreaded guns were again unlimbering, and at the sight the 
beaten army cowered and quickened its huddling retreat. Still, 
if there were hope of any kind, Desaix would feel and know it. 
All other generals, even Lannes, now saw nothing but a retreat 
until dark, but Napoleon looked eagerly at Desaix, and Desaix 
calmly at the field. " What say you ? " was the final question. 

" The battle is lost, but," glancing at his watch, " it is only 
three o'clock ; tliere is yet time to win another," was Desaix's 
spirited answer, and with a shout of applause the group gathered 
closer around the two great soldiers, while the rapid orders for 
renewal of the fight were given. 

The French at this time were mainly north of the highway, 
falling sullenly back toward the Scrivia ; the Austrians, except 
Ott's division, mainly on or south of that road, strung out in 
long columns, pushing eagerly forward for San Giuliano, hoping 
to beat the French in the race for the bridges, cut off their retreat, 
hem them in along the stream, and mow them down with their 
artillery. Suddenly there appeared across their front the serried 
ranks of a fresh division. Coming up from behind San Giuliano 
and deploying, facing west across the plain, with their left resting 
upon the liighway, were the resolute brigades of Boudet, six 
thousand troops tliat had not yet been engaged — that had never 
yet known defeat at the hands erf" the Austrians. At the same 
instant, staff-officers and generals galloping among the disordered 
battalions, shouted the glad news that Desaix had come, ordered 
the troops to halt and form line. Gardanne's remnant and Vic- 
tor's stragglers took heart at sight of the welcome reinforcement. 



THE RALLY ON THE PLAIN. 453 

Lannes had already halted and formed front out on the plain. 
Farther still were the squares of the Consular Guard ; and far- 
thest of all, still fighting, retiring from the fields around Castel- 
Ceriolo, the brigades of Carra Saint Cyr. All were halted as 
they stood, faced and deployed towards tlieir right, and so it re- 
sulted that a long oblique line was extended across the plain 
between San Giuliano and Castel-Ceriolo, while Desaix's men 
at the former village squarely confronted the advancing Aus- 
trians. Kellerman, with what was left of his cavalry, took post 
in support of Victor's shaken corps, and the twelve light guns — 
all that the French had left — were posted in front of Desaix to 
sweep the high-road. 

Unable to account for the sudden halt and formation of his 
enemy, but never dreaming that it meant a determination to re- 
sume the offensive, de Zach persisted in uicing ahead to gain the 
bridges toward Tortona. He maintained his columns of march, 
and ran stupidly into the trap. Meantime, riding rapidly along 
his lines, Napoleon, with that electric eloquence that ever dis- 
tinguished him in action, was reanimatin.ci, his soldiers. " You 
have gone far enough, my friends ; remember, it is my habit to 
sleep on the field of battle," he said to them smilingly, cheerily, 
and they reloaded their long muskets and once more looked 
eagerly, vengefully at the dusty columns over the plain. 

Then came the moment of retribution. The heads of the 
Austrian columns nearing San Giuliano came withm eas^' range 
of the light guns, and General Marmont gave the order "Fire!" 
Instantly a storm of grape tore its way through the crowded 
ranks, and Desaix was seen to dash forward in frCnt of 
the Ninth light infantry, waving his sword and ordering the 
charge. This gallant regiment sprang to the front, poured in 
a crashing volley at the short distance of two hundred yards, 
and led on by Desaix himself, rushed in with fixed bayonets on 
the recoiling Austrians Latterman's grenadiers stood firm, how- 
ever, and their answering volley took terrible effect. A bullet 
struck gallant Desaix full in the breast and stretched him on the 
sward. The hero, the saviour of the day, had arrived in time not 
only to retrieve the fortunes of France, but to consecrate with 



454 MARENGO. 

his life-blood her glorious and decisive victory. " Do not let the 
men know it," he faintly whispered to General Boudct, who bent 
over him ; but the Ninth had seen him fall, and burning for ven- 
geance, had redoubled the fury of their attack. They won that 
day the proud title of " The Incomparable." Even as they were 
hurled upon the head of column, and the Thirtieth and Fifty- 
ninth crossed the road and attacked from the east and south, Kel- 
lerman's dragoons came sweeping down with furious shout and 
onslaught through the gap between the lines of Desaix and Lan- 
nes, burst through the Au.strian columns, then wheeling right and 
left, doubled them up in huddled confusion. General de Zach 
and two thousand grenadiers found themselves surrounded and 
cut off by the very troops whom ten minutes before they thought 
to be in utter rout; and to his bitter mortification de Zach was 
compelled to yield up his sword, his grenadiers to throw down 
their arms and surrender, and now the Austrians were left with- 
out a leader. 

Opposite Lannes the Austrian centre was now striving to 
form to meet the new and utterly unlooked-for situation, but 
Kellerman gave them no time. He whirled about after securing 
de Zach and charged the dragoons of Lichtenstein, driving them 
back on the infantry. Lannes at the same instant sounded the 
charge and threw himself upon the division of Kaim. The 
Guards and the division of Monnier once more turned savagely 
on General Ott and raced him back through the streets of Castel- 
Ceriolo. The Austrian centre rallied around the blazing hamlet 
of Marengo for one last stand, but it was useless. Ott's cavalry, 
panic-stricken, were galloping back to the Bormida, riding down all 
who got in their way, shrieking, " To the bridges ! to the bridges ! " 
The guns, hastily limbered, were being driven madly to the rear, 
and finding the bridges jammed, the drivers were directed to 
plunge into the stream and strive to ford it. In a moment, drown- 
ing horses and men and mud-stalled gun-carriages dammed the 
waters. The Fontanone was once more thronged with fugitives, 
as the Austrian centre fled before the madly cheering lines of 
Lannes. Off to the south, Oreilly's cavalry still made vehement 
charges to stay the French advance, but the horse-guards under 




NAPOLEON I., EMPBKOB OF FRANCE. (ChattiUon.] 



A GLORIOUS DAY FOR FRANCE. 45? 

Bessieres and Eugene Beauharnais rode through the intervals, 
crossed the highway and charged them with fiery impetuosity, 
and then there was nothing left for Austria but demoralized and 
panicky flight — " horse, foot and dragoon." Abandoning guns, 
baggage, dead and wounded, the leaderless rabble struggled back 
across the Bormida, and as the sun dropped low in the west, de 
Melas, hastening forward from Alessandria, met, instead of the 
victorious army whose prowess he had already vaunted in exult- 
ant despatches to Vienna, a shattered, broken and utterly defeated 
mob. The army was gone. The hopes of Austria were ruined. 
In vain Melas sought for his generals and strove to regain his 
guns. Haddick was dead; de Zach a pri.soner ; Oreilly miss- 
ino-; Kaim and Ott without commands; Latterman, Belle- 
garde, Vogelsang and Goldesheim severely wounded ; his staff- 
officers scattered ; all his baggage, all his batteries in the hands 
of the enemy, and one-third of 'his men killed, wounded and 
prisoners. It was a sorry day for de Melas. He had indeed 
beaten Napoleon, but that victory was his defeat. It turned his 
head. He had gone to tell the glad tidings. Desaix had come 
to turn the tide. 

And so closed the bloody day of Marengo, a day of which 
Napoleon was ever so proud that he named his favorite gray 
charger in honor of it. Yet it was not his victory — it was that of 
Desaix ; and could Desaix have lived, and lived in Grouchy's 
place fifteen years later, who can say that Waterloo would not 
have been for France a victory even greater, even more decisive 
than Marengo? 

Few as were the forces engaged, viewed from the stand-point 
of its results this hard-fought battle was, up to this point at 
least, the most important of Napoleon's career. He had lost 
heavily ; one-fourth of his army was now "hors de combat" four 
of his generals were severely wounded, and Desaix, devoted, 
daring Desaix was killed, but the army of Austria was in his 
grasp. 

" What a glorious day ! " said his old school-mate Bourrienne 
to him that evening. " Yes, glorious indeed ! could I only have 
embraced Desaix upon the field," was the sad reply 



458 MARENGO. 

But triumph and joy ran riot in the army of France. They 
knew well that by their victory of this day another campaign 
was decided, and so it proved. Piedmont with all its fortresses, 
and Lombardy (for the second time), were surrendered to Napo- 
leon. Tortona with its citadel, Milan, Arona, Alessandria and 
Placentia, with their fortifications, Genoa with its harbor, all 
the military stores and artillery, were yielded up to France ; and 
by the terms of the capitulation of Alessandria, Austria let go 
her hold of northern Italy, fell back behind the line of the river 
Mincio, retaining only Mantua and Venice. 

But Marengo gave something more to France. Before setting 
forth from Paris to fight another battle for her glory or her 
defence, Napoleon Buonaparte had become her Emperor. 




DEAIll Ul- MARSHAL DESAIX. 



AUSTERLITZ. 




tSos. 

»RANCEand England and Austria had signed 
treaties of peace — France and Austria as 
the result of the campaign of Marengo, and 
Moreau's victory at Hohenlinden; France 
and England at Amiens in March, 1802; 
but the rapidly increasing honors bestowed 
upon Napoleon by the French, and his cor- 
respondingly rapid aggressions in Italy, ex- 
cited the jealous anxiety of both these 
nations. Made President of the Cis-Alpine Republic in January, 
1802, and declared Consul for life by the French Senate in the 
following August, Napoleon became arrogant — so said England 
and Austria — refused to modify his Italian policy to suit the 
views of the former, and once more the " tight little island " 
bristled with steel ; war was declared against France ; the Eng- 
lish fleets swept the seas and devastated her commerce ; Napoleon 
threatened to invade the British Islands, and gathered a large 
army at Boulogne as though to carry out the threat ; and, carried 
away by their mercurial enthusiasm, the French people by a pop- 
ular vote — some 3,000,000 against 3,000 — resolved to confer upon 
their now almost worshiped leader the crown and title of em- 
peror. The Pope of Rome was called upon to perform the cere- 
mony of coronation, but Napoleon brusquely set the Holy Father 
aside and placed the crown with his own hands upon his head. 
In May, 1805, he was crowned King of Italy, and now Austria 
once more sprang to arms. 

From first to last the most bitter and unrelenting enemy of 

459 



460 AUSTERLITZ. 

France — or rather of Napoleon — was England. Ships and sail- 
ors, guns and gold she furnisiied in lavish profusion. Her 
statesmen were in ever)' court in Europe stirring up the un- 
willing governments to renewed efforts against the Corsican 
upstart, as she was pleased to term him. No ruler born of the 
people could be tolerated on any throne by aristocratic England, 
and though it was plain to all that France was vastly benefited 
and enriched by the home policy of Napoleon, his foreign policy 
was what alarmed the nations. His elevation to the throne was 
a violation of his solemn obligations, so said England and Aus- 
tria, and now a grand coalition was formed by England, Austria, 
Russia and Sweden with the avowed purpose of driving him 
back to the obscurity from which he came. England was to 
blockade the ports, destroy the navies and ruin the commerce 
of France, while the other nations were to unite, form an im- 
mense army and launch it upon her eastern frontier. This was 
in September, 1805. 

Now indeed was Napoleon in extreme peril, and all Europe 
thought his day had come. 

But they did not know him yet. He was no man to stand 
quietly at home and let his enemies concentrate beyond his bor- 
ders. With astonishing speed, in wagons, coaches, carriages, 
"diligences." anything on wheels that could carrj^ men, he rushed 
his infantry from Boulogne, assembled a large and powerful 
army at Mayence in Hesse-Darmstadt on the Rhine, and while the 
Austrians were composedly waiting for the Russians to come 
and join them in the contemplated inroad on France. Napoleon, 
with his veteran soldiers, now soldiers of the Empire of France, 
was creeping like a cat upon their advanced posts. His columns 
were moving southeastward through Bavaria and the Black 
Forest, and all on one day, with the sudden leap of the panther, 
the French cavalrj' burst from half a dozen roads into the valley 
of the Danube — all along where Marlborough and Eugene had 
marched and fought in the glorious Blenheim year, a century 
before — while with massive artillery' and solid battalions. Napo- 
leon himself appeared before the fortress of Ulm, and pointing 
out to its veteran commander that his retreat was cut off that 



ORGANIZATION OF "THE GRAND ARMY." 46^ 

he could not get away, nor could succor reach him, the emperor 
demanded the surrender of his army; and Ulm. with its vast 
stores, supplies and arsenals, with 30,000 troops all ready for 
the campaign, was handed over by General Mack to this aston- 
ishing young leader of men. This was on the 20th of October. 
Three weeks thereafter Napoleon with his army had entered the 
proud capital of Austria. Vienna was at his mercy: the army 
of Austria was scattered to the four winds. France was in 
one blaze of triumph and delight, and Europe was aghast with 
dismay. But more yet was in store for them — a grander tri- 
umph for France, a louder thunderbolt for Europe. The Em- 
peror of Russia, with an army of over 100,000 men, had arrived 
in Austria in the performance of his portion of the compact. 
The Emperor of Austria, driven from his own capital, had 
hastened to join him; the broken fragments of the Austrian 
army were rallying upon the advancing column, and Napoleon 
boldly pushed forward to meet the combined array. He had 
thrice humbled Austria ; now he was to meet and vanquish the 
combined strength of Austria and Russia, and to win the ever 
glorious and memorable battle of Austerlitz. 

For two years France may be said to have been steadily pre- 
paring for war, and in the fall of 1805, as reorganized by Napo- 
leon, " The Grand Army of the Empire " was at its best. 

It was divided into seven corps, commanded each by a mar- 
shal of France who had won his baton by valiant and approved 
services under the eye of Napoleon himself, or by some veteran 
general. They were as follows : 

First corps, 17,000, Marshal Bernadotte ; Second corps, 20,- 
000, General Marmont ; Third corps, 26,000, Marshal Davout ; 
Fourth corps, 40,000, Marshal Soult ; Fifth corps, 16,000, Mar- 
shal Lannes. (These corps were soon equalized by the transfer 
of Suchet's division from the Fourth to the Fifth.) Sixth corps, 
24,000, Marshal Ney ; Seventh corps, 14,000, Marshal Auge- 
reau ; Cavalry corps, 22,000, Horse Artillery, 1,000, Marshal 
Murat; the Imperial Guard, 7,000, Marshr.l Bcssieres. 

Each of the seven corps was complete in infantry only. 
Napoleon did not approve of the system that had prevailed on 
29 



462 AUiiTEkLITZ. 

the Rhine of making the "corps d'armee" complete in themselves, 
with full complement of heavy and light cavalry and their 
own artillery. He desired to hold in his own hand and be able 
ta send at once to any desired point the heavy cavalry of the 
Tirmy; and, old artiilerym.an that he was, he preferred also to 
retain personal control of the movements of the larger portion 
of his guns. The corps were fully supplied with all the light 
cavalry, hussars, lancers and chasseurs they might need for 
guard and scouting duty, and each corps had its batteries of 
field-artillery ; but the greatest number of batteries was held 
jubject to the orders of the emperor, and as for the grand corps 
of cavalry — all " heavies " — Napoleon and Murat alone con- 
trolled them. This was a superb command, 6,ooo cuirassiers 
under Generals Nansouty and d'Haurpoul, and i6,ooo dragoons 
under five brigadier-generals, made seven brigades of disciplined 
and heavily equipped horsemen, each brigade being accom- 
panied by its battery of flying artillery; and as for the guards, 
they were the very elite of the French army. None but tried 
and valorous men could find their way into those ranks. The 
grenadiers were the delight of Napoleon's heart ; and the 
Italian regiment, the Mameluke squadrons, the gendarmerit 
and horse-guards were commands that were the envied and ad- 
mired of the whole army. Here, too, the emperor's love for his 
old arm showed itself in the formation of the four batteries of 
the guard, manned, horsed and equipped, drilled and taught 
with the utmost care ; and these organizations, this corps by 
itself, marched, camped and bivouacked always near the emperor. 

Other grenadiers there were who formed a division, and often 
marched near the guard, and were associated with it, but they 
belonged to the Fifth corps, and were led by Oudinot. 

All told, there were present with the colors in the Grand Army 
js it crossed the Rhine for the advance on Austria, 340 guns and 
186,000 men, 38,000 of whom were mounted. When it became 
necessary to march forward to meet the allied armies, however, 
Napoleon had with him but 45,000 men, and late in November, 
1805, the three emperors with their forces were in the field north 
of Vienna, between Briinn and Olmiitz, some ninety miles away. 



THREE EMPERORS IN THE FIELD, 463 

Fixing his headquarters at Brunn, Napoleon had carefully studied 
the ground in his front, feeling well assured that it was the pur- 
pose of the allies to advance to the attack as soon as they had 
gathered in what they deemed sufficient strength; and he was 
impatient for the battle to come for the simple reason that the 
relations of France with Prussia were becoming much involved. 
Prussia was showing signs of hostility, and it was very necessary 
that the allies should be crushed before Prussia could unite her 
forces and fortunes with theirs. 

Alexander of Russia and the Emperor Francis were at Ol- 
miitz, forty odd miles northeast of Briinn, and their combined 
armies, as they moved forward to the attack, consisted of 90,000 
men. English writers, like Sir Archibald Alison, tell us that the 
French had 90,000 to the allies, 80,000. French writers, like M. 
Thiers, put it far the other way ; but it may be said of Austerlitz 
that there, at least, the numbers of the combatants engaged on 
the two sides were more nearly equal than in any of Napoleon's 
great battles. The anxiety with which he awaited the result of this 
one, therefore, was due probably to the immense issues involved, 
rather than any doubts as to the success of his arms. In fact, the 
advantage seemed to lie with the French emperor from the very 
start. Himself the invader, he yet proposed to fight a defensive 
battle ; one, at least, in which he would invite and compel attack 
on ground carefully surveyed and chosen by himself, and over 
which he had ridden with his generals, causing them to study it 
with him. His army was in superb condition, mentally and phys' 
ically ; a trifle wearied, perhaps, with their long and incessant 
marching, but hardened, toughened and vigorous, full of high 
faith in him and in one another — a Grand Army, indeed, in its 
discipline, its patriotism and its unity. Never yet had theii 
young emperor suffered defeat, and never should he. Yet, in 
order to concentrate at Briinn in time, he had been obliged tc 
call on Davout to make a forced and fatiguing march with his 
corps from the western borders of Hungary, and Bernadotte, with 
his stalwart infantry, tramped all the way from Iglau on the Bo- 
hemian border in two days. The march of Friant's division of 
the former corps was something phenomenal, for with all *lieir 



464 AUSTERLITZ. 

heavy campaign kits, they traversed a distance of a little over 
ninety miles in forty-eight hours, bivouacking at Gros Raigern, 
behind the field of Austerlitz, late on the night before the battle. 
So much for the spirit and enthusiasm of Napoleon's army, which, 
on the morning of December 2d, was at least 75,000 strong. 

Now, on the other hand, there was no unity in the camp of 
the allies. Never having fought the French, the majority of the 
Russian officers openly taunted the Austrians with cowardice at 
being so persistently beaten, and in the conceit of their utter in- 
experience in war, were ready to boast their ability to overthrow 
the self-made emperor single-handed. Around the headquarter 
court of Alexander were scores of young Muscovite noblemfen, 
who eagerly discussed the grand times they proposed to have in 
Paris with the coming of the new year. Thither they confidently 
expected to march, and there to spend the winter. The Russians 
were brave beyond question, but their artillery was crude com- 
pared with the French ; their cavalrj^ was raw and undisciplined ; 
their infantry was cool, impassive, but clumsy ; and their generals ! 
Napoleon scouted them. In the sharp fight where some of the 
Russians had encountered his men at Hollabriinn, the emperor 
was able to make up his mind as to the capacity of the Russian 
leaders; and these Russians who had fought at Hollabriinn were 
by no means the self-confident set th^t thronged about the per- 
son of the young tsar. The persistent flatteries of such courtiers 
as Prince Dolgorouki outweighed with Alexander the advice of 
his older and wiser generals. He was induced to issue orders, 
as though personally, directing the movements of his armies, 
and he was in no way fitted for the command. He had some 
few experienced and educated soldiers among his generals: no- 
tably, Prince Bagration, a noble Georgian of great ability ; General 
Kutusoff, a wily, fawning, indolent, but shrewd officer ; Langeron, 
a renegade Frenchman, who had no business there, a persistent 
grumbler and fault-finder, but a fine tactician and fighter ; and 
General Doctorow, an earnest, faithful and devoted soldier. 
Then he had, as chief of staff, an arrogant and conceited Ger- 
man, General Weirother, who, having seen service in previous 
campaigns, and drifted into the employ of the Russian govern- 



THE FIELD OF AUSTERLITZ. 465 

ment, was given to laying down the law on all occasions, and 
this General Weirother devised the plan upon which the allies 
agreed to act. 

Olmiitz lay something like forty miles by road northeast ofi 
Briinn, whither Napoleon had advanced. Weirother proposed 
that they should march upon the French position, instead of 
awaiting attack ; should work around south of the high-road 
joining Briinn and Olmiitz, and attack the extreme right of Na- 
poleon's lines, double him up, throw his right wing back, seize 
the Vienna road and so interpose between him and all his other 
forces in Austria ; then it would be an easy matter to throw him 
northwest into Bohemia, and there destroy him. It all looked 
plausible enough. It was known that the French had formed 
their lines facing nearly east, well out in the open country be- 
tween Briinn and the chateau of Austerlitz, and Weirother easily 
talked the tsar into its adoption. Whatever the Austrian em- 
peror may have thought, he and his few generals were too much 
in the minority to have any voice ; and so the fatal orders were 
issued. In five columns the allied army pushed out from Ol- 
miitz, marched on Austerlitz, and proceeded to do just what Na- 
poleon hoped and prayed they might do, and for which he had 
made every preparation. 

Let us take a look at the field. It is early winter, remem- 
ber; the ground is covered in many places with light patches of 
snow; the weather has been sharply cold and many of the 
streams and all the lakes and ponds — and there are many of 
them in the hollows — are coated with ice thick enough to bear 
the weight of a farm-sled or wagon. Briinn is a fortified town 
in the centre of a well-watered valley, whose streams uniting 
make quite a formidable river of the March before it tumbles 
inio the Danube a hundred miles below. Northwest, fifteen 
miles away, rises the rugged mountain range that divides Mora- 
via from Bohemia. Eastward, a like distance, is a still higher 
and bolder range that shuts out Hungary. Northeastward lie 
Olmiitz, Cracow, the head-waters of the Oder and Vistula, and 
the grand route to Russia. Briinn guards the highway to 
Vienna which runs north from the Austrian capital until it reaches 



4:QQ AUSTERLITZ. 

Briinn, then makes a right angle with itself and goes out east- 
ward, dipping and rising over the undulating country, crosses 
the valleys of several little streams all flowing southward, sends 
out an arm to Austerlitz which it leaves a little to its right, and 
then streaks away across the uplands northeastward again for 
Olm'iitz. These streams unite, and while all the hollows and 
depressions down south of the high-road are filled with ponds, 
they form with their united contributions a very considerable 
little lake, which lies east of but not very far from the Vienna 
road. All the heights were then covered with coppices and 
dense growth of firs, but the slopes and valleys as a rule were 
bare. Here, there and everywhere in sheltered nooks along the 
streams were little hamlets whose names need not be repeated 
here. The stream in which we have the greatest interest, with its 
shallow valley, was known locally as the Goldbach ; most of the 
villages clustered along its banks from the Olmutz road on the 
north, to the ponds or lakes of Satschau and Menitz into which 
it empties on the south. East of the Goldbach and well to the 
south of the high-road the ground rose to a considerable height, 
forming what was called the plateau of Pratzen. It sloped gently 
down to the chateau and hamlet of Austerlitz on the east, and 
sharply and abruptly down into the ponds on the south and 
southwest. 

It was here, on the west bank of the Goldbach, that Napoleon 
established his lines as soon as he knew of the arrival of the 
Russians near Austerlitz. Facing now a little southeast, with 
his left resting on steep and jagged knolls to the south of the 
Olmiitz road, he placed the centre opposite the heights of 
Pratzen, and his right down by the lake and facing the smaller 
ponds. It was a strong line and he knew it. It was a perilous 
one if the heights on the left should be carried, but he fortified 
the main height, the Santon, as the soldiers called it, placed there 
eighteen guns in " batteries of position," supported them with a 
tried brigade of infantry under General Claparede, whom he 
required to take an oath that he would die sooner than abandon 
it, and then, giving to Lannes the charge of this part of the 
field, he felt safe. Now for the " order of battle." 



THE ORDER OF BATTLE. 467 

Beginning at the north, or left, was the corps of Marshal 
Lannes fronting the open country on both sides of the Olmiitz 
road — country so open and unobstructed that here if anywhere, 
said Napoleon, will be the fiercest cavalry fighting; so here, and 
acting under the orders of Lannes for the time being, he placed 
the grand cavalry corps of Murat, with such splendid " sabrciirs " 
as Milhaud, Kellerman, Nansouty and Beaumont. 

In the centre were placed the divisions of Vandamme and St. 
Hilaire directly opposite the Pratzen plateau, and a glorious 
part in the coming battle were they destined to play. Two 
little hamlets lay in their front down in the valley or ravine of 
the Goldbach : they were called Girzikowitz and Puntowitz. 
Farther down to the south was another little hamlet with marshy 
ground about it — Kobelnitz — and behind this was posted Le- 
grand's division. These three were all of the Fourth corps 
(Soult's), and they with their guns covered most of the ground 
from the centre down to the vicinity of the ponds, back of which 
stood another little country hamlet, Telnitz. Far off to the 
right rear, three miles away, was posted Friant's hard-marching 
division of Davout's corps, so that except by certain light brig- 
ades of chasseurs and cavalry, the ground immediately behind the 
ponds looked almost unoccupied. This was to draw the Rus- 
sians thither, should they have any idea whatever of coming 
that way. 

Having ten divisions of infantry present and ready for action, 
it thus resulted that only six appeared in line ; Napoleon meant 
to keep heavy reserves, and for a definite purpose. He would 
be content with no moderate victory. If his plans proved suc- 
cessful he meant to annihilate the allies. For this object, besides 
the splendid battalions and batteries of the Imperial Guard, 
Oudinot's entire division of grenadiers was drawn up well to 
the rear of Lannes, while Bernadotte with Drouet's and Rivaud's 
divisions of his corps formed in support of Soult. Napoleon 
thus had 25,000 men in readiness to move whithersoever they 
were needed, and by their weight and numbers burst through 
any defence the allies might make when it came time for Napo- 
leon to advance. He by no means meant to stand and fight. 



468 AUSTERLITZ. 

And everything worked to a charm. He had marched up with 
great boldness from Vienna until within thirty miles of Olmiitz, 
and then with admirably counterfeited timidity, began to hesitate, 
and, as though afraid to meet the allies with the force at hand, 
he drew back his lines, retiring slowly until he had produced 
the desired effect in the Russian councils — until they were in- 
duced to believe him frightened, and so launched out to assail 
him. By the first day of December the Russian army was en- 
camped around Austerlitz, and the staff-officers were eagerly 
scanning the French lines. Napoleon from the high ground 
where his tent was pitched in the midst of his reserves, could see 
the whole eastern horizon reddened with their watch-fires night 
after night, as their divisions closed on the heights of Pratzen 
and reached out southward to feel their way around that right 
flank. Everything in their movements and reconnoissances 
indicated to his analytical mind that they were thinking of the 
very plan he wished them to adopt — that of attacking in force 
down by Telnitz and the ponds. The whole front covered by 
the hostile lines was some five miles in length, and the main 
Russian army, early on the ist of December, was posted well 
back on the plateau of Pratzen. On that afternoon, however, 
there were signs of movement; guns and dense masses of troops 
were being drawn off southward. " Then," said Napoleon, " we 
shall fight on the morrow, and we will end the war with a 
thunderbolt." 

The night of December ist had come. Sharply cold, but with 
not a puff of wind to stir the mists that rose above the streams, 
the air of this upland valley chilled to the marrow the soldiers 
of France, who huddled about their bivouac fires for warmth and 
comfort. The emperor, who had issued a stirring proclamation 
to them to be read at sunset, now, soon after dark, started around 
the lines to visit the different battalions in person. One year ago 
he had been crowned with great pomp and ceremony ; to-night, 
in the bleak wilds of Moravia, but surrounded by his devoted 
men, he was preparing to fight vehemently in defence of that 
crown. 

Catching sight of him as he rode in among there on " Ma* 



THE RUSSIAN PLAN OF ATTACK. 469 

rengo," the nearest soldiers, eager to light his way, snatched 
wisps of straw from their rude pallets and lighted them at the 
fires. Then sticking these torches in the muzzles of their mus- 
kets, they raised them on high with joyous shouts of " Vive 
I' empereiir ! " It spread indeed like wild-fire. Battalion after 
battalion sprang to its feet, took up the shout, followed the ex- 
ample of the leaders, and in ten minutes, all up and down the 
western slopes of the Goldbach a blaze of torches burst upon 
the night, and a grand illumination of the western skies startled 
the councils of the Russian officers. Riding out on the Pratzen, 
one could easily hear the enthusiastic cheering in the French 
camp. No wonder growler Langeron went back to Kresnowitz 
with gloomy forebodings. " You said the French army was de- 
moralized and ready to run. What say you to that ? " he asked, 
pointing to the ruddy glare across the Goldbach — and no one 
could answer. 

Late at night the Russian generals were assembled at grim 
old Kutusoff' s quarters, and there listened to a lecture — " a me- 
morial containing the whole plan of the battle," from the lips of 
that self-sufficient chief of staff, Weirother. He had few friends 
among them ; his dictatorial manner annoyed them. Their best 
soldier, Bagration, was not present ; the others listened with 
what patience they could assume. Kutusoff went sound asleep 
in his chair and snored. 

It was settled that, at daylight, Prince Bagration, with the Rus- 
sian right, was to advance along the Olmiitz road and attack the 
position of Lannes with all his force, and to keep with him, con- 
necting him with the Russian centre on the Pratzen, the whole 
mass of the cavalry. This would bring the horsemen of the two 
armies face to face on the level upland, and stirring fighting was 
to be expected there. Bagration was to strive to carry the height 
of Santon, and thus command the ground held by the French 
left. But, leaving bcliind them the plateau of Pratzen, separating 
themselves thereby from their own right, the main body in three 
columns, led by Generals Doctorow, Langeron and Pribyschew- 
ski, were to descend southward from the heights, cross the Gold- 
bach near the ponds, hurl themselves with full force upon the 



470 AUSTERI.ITZ. 

French right, turn it and seize the Vienna road. " That," said 
Weirother, " will end the battle." 

So it might — if Napoleon would stand still and let them do 
it; but he had other views. At four o'clock, in the biting cold 
of the early wintry morn, he mounted and rode quietly forward. 
At the crest of the slopes of the Goldbach he paused, and looked 
long and earnestly over the dimly outlined plateau on the other 
side. Hundreds of the Russian fires had dwindled away to mere 
embers. He knew what that meant — they were up and moving. 
Riding down into the valley and out still farther among his out- 
posts up the ravines on the other side, he could faintly hear the 
distant rumble of gun-carriages and the dull thud of horses' 
hoofs creeping off to the south. With grim delight the em- 
peror listened. It was full confirmation of his theory. At six 
o'clock he was back at his post in rear of the centre. All the 
lines of France were now aroused and in battle order. Sur- 
rounded by his brilliant staff and all the marshals of the empire 
present on the field, the emperor sat in saddle on a knoll which 
commanded an extended view in every direction. Little by little 
the gray light of the wintry dawn crept over the sky, and the 
fog-bank over the valley rose thick and damp. In low tones the 
orders of the officers of the lines at the centre called their men 
into act'on. The divisions of Vandamme and St. Hilaire silently 
moved to the front and disappeared from sight down in the mists 
of the Goldbach. 

Suddenly, far down to the right, a few scattering shots are 
heard ; then a dozen — then a rattle and roar. It is not yet broad 
daylight, and the mist is so thick that nothing can be seen, but 
all at '■he French headquarters know the meaning. The Russian 
advance has struck the outposts of the right wing. Louder and 
heavier grows the fire ; now the field-guns begin ; that means 
that the main lines are getting in; and now crashing volleys light 
with lurid glare the fog-bank over Telnitz. The lines must be 
in p^ain sight of one another, then. Davout, at the emperor's 
silk, is chafing with impatience. Those are his men and he knows 
ho"A' weak in numbers they must be. " Go, then, Davout," laughs 
the (■'Mperor; "bring up Friant and hold them there," and Da- 
vout purs off at mad gallop. 



"THE SUN OF AUSTERLITZ." 471 

Murat, Soult and Lannes, with their aides, are still in saddle 
around Napoleon, eagerly awaiting his orders. Louder grows 
the roar of battle down at their right, and they are burning with 
impatience to begin on their own account, but still he holds them 
there. He means to give those groping Russians abundant time 
to get well off the Pratzen before making his counter-move — 
but then ! — 

And now at last, over the eastern hills, a dull-red, lurid ball 
creeps up through the fog; then a shimmer and radiance dances 
through the frosty air. Stray wisps of cloud float upward tinged 
with gold ; and then, then in brilliant, dazzling glory the King 
of Day mounts above the misty veil. The arms, standards, 
plumes and helmets of France blaze and sparkle in the joyou."; 
light, and Napoleon with flashing eyes turns to his comrades, 
saying, " Behold the sun of Austerlitz ! " 

What wonder that he greets it with triumphant thrill at heart. 
Now at last he sees the heights of Pratzen before him weil-nign 
clear of troops. Russia has massed her columns on his right, 
as he has hoped and intended ; only thin lines connect the two 
widely separated wings. Now comes the moment of his great 
move. " Forward, Soult ; seize the Pratzen — cut them in two! " 
and the marshal speeds eastward to the valley, while at the same 
instant Lannes and Murat gallop to the north to join their corps. 

Let us for a moment follow the heavy columns of the Russians. 
Early in the morning, long before day, the movement begins. 
An Austrian division. General Kienmeyer's'^ is in the advance, 
and directs its march on Telnitz. The entire left wing of the 
allies is under the command of General Buxhovden, 2 hard- 
drinking old personage, who owes his high position entirely to 
the influence of his wife at St. Petersburg. Instead of having 
Doctorow's strong column in close support of the Austrian 
advance, he has it strung out in long columns nearly an hour 
behind, and as for Langeron's divisions, he cannot tell where 
they are. Eager to prove their mettle, and too impatient to 
wait, Kienmeyer's men push forward just as soon as it is dimly 
h'ght enough to see the huts in Telnitz, and it is here that Aus- 
terlitz begins. The Third infantry and the Corsican chasseurs 



472 AUSTERLITZ. 

of Soult's extreme right are there in readiness; and theirs arc 
the shots that first waken the morning echoes along the Gold- 
bach. From behind hedges and village walls, these old cam- 
paigners coolly pick off the leaders in Kienmeyer's hussars, 
and when the latter hurries forward his infantry in support, they 
rise and give them volley after volley. Kienmeyer and the 
Austrians are twice driven back, but then Doctorovv's divisions 
come swarming out upon the misty flats, and now the volleys 
thunder in good earnest. Twenty-four solid battalions are 
pounding at four, while Kienmeyer's squadrons spur across the 
lowlands to the south, and dash, sabre in hand, upon Margaron's 
little brigade of horse. But by this time Davout with Friant's 
gallant division is hurrying forward, deploying as they run. 
The First dragoons are sent at full gallop towards Telnitz, for 
there the Austrians and Russians have at last gained a footing, 
and now are forming beyond it to breast the slopes. It is just 
broad daylight down in the valley as those cheering dragoons 
come thundering in upon them, and hurl them into the stream- 
bed, while Friant and his leading battalions dash into Telnitz, 
and with butt and bayonet drive out all who oppose them. 
Pursuing, the One Hundred and Eighth regiment and the volti- 
geurs cross the stream, and there a sad mishap occurs. Some 
of Legrand's men, marching down to the assistance of their 
comrades in Telnitz, catch sight of the formmg ranks across the 
Goldbach, and seeing them only indistinctly through the eddy- 
ing mist, assail them with furious volleys, that lay low many 
gallant men, and, supposing themselves outflanked, the survivors 
break and fall back in some confusion. By this time Langeron 
has arrived. He and his men have been detained by getting 
mixed up with the cavalry on the plateau, but now, seeing the 
French staggered and in retreat, both columns, Doctorow's and 
Langeron's, dash forward, one on Telnitz, the other on Sokolnitz, 
seize them and deploy their lines in strong force on the western 
slopes, and despite the heroic efforts of Davout and Friant, 
some 30,000 Russians are across the Goldbach, and the French 
right is indeed in jeopardy. Fast as possible the Russian light 
batteries are lashed into position and open on the French squares, 



STORMING THK IIEIGIltS OF PRATZEN. 473 

formed to resist the incessant charges of the Austrian squadron^, 
but Davout runs up his answering guns, and now, far thicker, 
heavier, more dense and suffocating than the fog-bank of tho 
early morn, the valley of the Goldbach is filled with the battle- 
cloud of sulphur-smoke, and still yielding no further ground 
but backed valiantly by Legrand and his division, Davout fiercely 
bars the way to the Vienna road. 

Now what of Soult and the centre? 

Up a long ravine that opens into the valley of the Goldbach 
in front of Puntowitz, lies the little village from which the heights 
of Pratzen take their name. Near here, at dawn, the allied em- 
perors had taken their station and the imperial guard of Russia, 
the Austrian infantry of Kollowrath, and the Russian foot of 
Miloradovich are deployed upon the plateau in place of Bux- 
hovden's main body, which has gone down into the valley and is 
now in furious combat with Davout. Old General Kutusoff is 
in command on the plateau, and Prince Czartoryski is at his 
accustomed place beside the emperor. 

Despite the move of Buxhovden, there are still some 15,000 
infantry, a dozen batteries and a powerful array of horse there 
on the Pratzen, but they are far back from the crest, and the last 
thing on earth they expect at this moment is attack from any 
source. The young gallants around Alexander are already 
exultingly talking of the retreating French, when suddenly the 
skirmishers out at the edge of the plateau begin a rapid fire, and 
then, before the startled eyes of Russia and Austria, come falling 
back upon their supports. In utter amaze the generals listen to 
the reports. " The French are advancing," and, spurring to the 
front. Prince Czartoryski comes in view of a picture that sends 
him back with blanching cheek, brave as he is, to the side of his 
emperor. It is indeed true. The valley of the Goldbach is crowded 
with the solid battalions, and in two powerful columns the men 
of Vandamme and St. Hilaire, laughing at the sputtering skir- 
mish fire, are jauntily, eagerly swarming up the western slope of 
the Pratzen. Already the leading light-troops are springing up the 
ravine and driving the Russian skirmishers out of the village, 
and, north and south, Vandamme and St. Hilaire are deploying 
32 



474 AUSTERUTZ. 

their lines preparatory to a general advance. Thiebault's brig- 
ade on the flank meets with a sudden volley from some Russian 
regiments lying in the ravine about Pratzen. Its general daringly 
rides forward, facing his ready men towards the fire, and with a 
ringing cheer leads them into the depression in search of their 
foe. In five minutes those Russians are surrounded, overpow- 
ered and disarmed, and Thiebault is once more forming line to 
the support of General Morand, now advancing on the Russian 
headquarters, while Vandamme's whole division, firing by bat- 
talion as they move forward in line, are steadily driving back 
the foremost lines of Miloradovich's Russians, and gradually 
encircling the knoll or hillock of Stari Winobradi which com- 
mands the plateau, and on which Kutusofif has planted his 
heaviest batteries supported by strong masses of infantry. In 
front of St. Hilaire's lines the French light batteries moving 
forward at rapid trot suddenly unlimber and deluge the Austrian 
division with grape. Kollowrath's men are thrown into the 
utmost disorder by the storm, and St. Hilaire follows up the 
batteries by a rousing charge with the bayonet, driving the 
Austrians pell-mell back towards Austerlitz. Vandamme, further 
north, has had equal success. The Russian lines are broken and 
drifting eastward ; Stari Winobradi with all its guns is taken by 
the rush of the Fourth regiment and the Twenty-fourth light 
infantry, Vandamme leading them in person. 

Ten •o'clock is near at hand, and the Russian army that at 
dawn had set forth to turn the French right finds itself in ex- 
traordinary plight. Crowded between the ponds and those in- 
flexible lines of Friant's and Legrand's, stupid, half-drunken old 
Buxhovden is unable to act with any success, and to the dismay 
of the allied emperors Soult has seized the whole plateau of 
Pratzen, the Russian centre is pierced, and Kollowrath and 
Miloradovich are in full retreat on Austerlitz. 

Now was the time for Kutusoff, had he been alive to the sit- 
uation, to recall the columns of Langeron and Doctorow and, 
reascending the heights from the south, take Soult in flank; but 
Napoleon was prepared even for tliat contingency. Delightedly 
watching the grand assault of his centre on the plateau, and see- 



FORWARD! IMPERIAL GUARD. 475 

ing the two wings of the alhes now thrown wide apart, he calls 
up the corps of Bernadotte, the glorious Imperial Guard and 
Oudinot's grenadiers, and with 25,000 fresh men at his back, 
crosses the Goldbach, and by eleven o'clock his entire reserve 
is deployed on the Pratzen. 

Thanks to the vehement efforts of old Kutusoff, who rides 
storming, swearing and bleeding through the crowd of fugitives, 
and to the admirable conduct of Miloradovich, the allies are 
brought up standing near the eastern base of the plateau, and 
here, aligned on the strong division- of the Russian imperial 
guard, they await with greater confidence the renewed advance 
of Soult. They are strong enough now to engulf him com- 
pletely, provided he is not promptly supported. They cannot 
see that the French emperor with all his grand reserve is now 
climbing the slopes far behind him, and with a renewal of hope 
they align their ranks and wait. For half an hour there is a lull 
in the battle on the heights. Now let us go northward and 
look after Lannes and the cavalry corps of Murat. 

All this time they have been engaged in a brilliant battle of 
their own. 

Not waiting for Prince Bagration to attack him, Marshal 
Lannes had formed the left wing in beautiful order, and, the 
moment he saw the columns of Soult climbing the slopes of 
the Pratzen, marched forward across the glistening plain in his 
front. 

North of the Olmiitz road were numerous fir-covered knolls 
and ridges. South of it, open and rolling and bare, the land 
sloped very gradually up to the Pratzen heights, and here, his 
guns and infantry sweeping the road and the broken country 
north of it, and with all the superb Austrian cavalry and rugged 
Russian horse drawn up in the open ground to the south. Prince 
Bagration had been " waiting orders." He was not present at the 
"lecture" of Weirother the night before, and not until after eight 
o'clock did he receive from that valuable staff-officer his instruc- 
tions for the day. Lannes and Murat relieved him of any un- 
certainty he might have felt, however, for even as he was study- 
ing with vague anxiety the steady advance of Soult on the 



476 AUSTERI.ITZ. 

allied centre, he found himself fiercely attacked. Suchet's 
division north of the road, Caffarelli's to the south, had assaulted 
his lines, while, covering the open upland, the glittering arraj" 
of Murat's horsemen advanced at steady walk in support. In 
spite of the vigorous service of his batteries, Bagration found 
that Caffarelli's division was driving in his left, and now he gave 
the order to Prince John of Lichtenstein, commanding the allied 
cavalry, to charge to the rescue. Then began the magnificent 
cavalry combat of Austerlitz. Just as Napoleon had anticipated, 
the open upland was the scene, and some 30,000 horse the 
actors. Constantine's division of Hulans of the Russian corps 
were hurled in on Caffarelli's infantry. The latter quickly 
sprang into squares, while Kellerman, waiting until the Hulans 
had become well broken up by the fire of the infantry, held his 
light horse in readiness. The flashing volleys of the French 
linesmen answered the savage yell of the Russian cavalry. Four 
hundred of the Hulans, with their general, Essen, were stretched 
upon the ground ; then with ringing trumpet-call and flashing 
sabres Kellerman's hussars tore down upon them. Lichtenstein 
sent a fresh brigade to their assistance. Murat launched in the 
division of dragoons. The ground shook with the thunder of 
their hoofs, and, in smoke, dust and terrific din, the horsemen of 
France and Russia crashed together in mighty struggle. For 
some time the infantry could only cease firing and look on ; the 
gunners dropped their sponge-staves and hand-spikes, and clam- 
bered on the limbers for a better view. At last, without decided 
gain to either side, the horsemen were called off, leaving the 
ground strewn with dead and wounded troopers and chargers. 
Then the infantry again pressed forward, though mowed down 
by the missiles of forty Russians guns. Caffarelli's division 
south of the road made splendid progress, though General 
Valhabert was cruelly wounded, and Colonel Castex, charging 
the hamlet held by the detachment of the Russian guard, was 
killed at the head of the Thirteenth light infantry. 

Suchet's division was having a harder time. Prince Bagra- 
tion had at last received his orders to assault the Santon. His 
left was already driven in, but he struck out boldly with his 



THE RUSSIAN RIGHT RUINED. 477 

right, through the rugged country north of the road. Suchet's 
guns and footmen, however, made superb stand, and the Russian 
infantry, finding itself in danger of being outflanked on the 
left, began slowly to fall back. Suchet at once pressed forward 
in pursuit, firing as he went, and driving rapidly ahead along the 
highway. Seeing this, Lannes delightedly ordered Murat to 
follow up the move, urged forward Suchet's right and Caffa- 
relli's left, and then with a superb stroke of genius wheeled 
them pivoting on their outer flanks, so that Suchet, swinging 
around to the left, swept all Bagration's infantry north of the 
Olmiitz road. Caffarelli sent the cavalry whirling back before 
his volleys towards the Pratzen. The grand divisions of Nan- 
souty's and D'Haurpoul's cuirassiers burst forward to hold the 
interval thus created between the foot divisions, and, fighting a 
battle of his own, Lannes, the hero of Montebello, had split in 
twain the Russian right wing — a second wedge had torn through 
the allied line. In vain Lichtenstein hurled in his horsemen to 
charge Caffarelli's flank. Four thousand iron-clad swordsmen 
with tremendous impact met their charge, overwhelmed, over- 
turned and crushed them. The last of Lichtenstein's troopers 
scurried off for Austerlitz, and appeared no more upon the 
scene. The Russian right was ruined. 

And now the combat is again raging on the Pratzen. Kutusoff 
has rallied and reformed the strong divisions of Miloradovich and 
Kollowrath upon the yet unengaged line of the Imperial Guard 
of Russia; and one fine brigade of Langeron's command, 
Kamenski's, hearing the uproar on the plateau they had so re- 
cently quitted, has faced about, reascended the slopes, and is 
now pouring in its heavy volleys on the flank of Soult's 
extreme right. General Langeron himself, disgusted with the 
way things are going in the neighborhood of Tclnitz, and be- 
lieving that old Buxhovden is sacrificing the army in his besotted 
condition, comes spurring up the heights and instantly assumes 
command at the south end of the Pratzen. Thiebault's brigade 
of St. Hiiaire's division is thus enclosed with a wall of fire, and 
Colonel Pouzet, of the Tenth light infantry, eagerly implores of 
St. Hilaire permission to charge with the bayonet, as the only 
30 



478 AUSTERLITZ. 

soldierly means of escaping the carnage. " Forward ! " is the 
order, and with a glad, fierce, ringing battle-cry the three regi- 
ments spring upon the opposing lines, not forty yards away, 
drive Kamenski's men helter-skelter down the southern slopes, 
and then turn furiously on KoUowrath's half-shaken Austrians. 
It is the last stand the latter make. Thiebault never sounds the 
recall until his men have chased them well down the eastern 
slopes across the Austerlitz road ; and now the Russian left is 
cut off from the centre, for St. Hilaire promptly posts the re- 
forming brigade to hold the ground thus won, while under the 
eye of Napoleon himself, Vandamme, supported by the grand 
reserve, sweeps forward to demolish the allied centre. 

Too brave to retreat farther, the Emperors of Austria and 
Russia have rallied their staunchest troops around the imperial 
standards well to the northeast of the burning roofs of Pratzen, 
and in full view of the chateau and hamlet of Austerlitz. 

The eager charge of Thiebault's brigade is seen and envied 
by all the extended lines of St. Hilaire and Vandamme, and the 
latter, finding it impossible to restrain the impatience of his men 
until the heavy supports arrive, gives way to their impulse and 
lets them go The charge is superb, but in the tumult and con 
fusion that follow, some of the men cannot be made to hear tht. 
repeated orders and signals to halt and reform. Thus it hap- 
pens that the Fourth regiment of the line goes tearing down the 
slopes in mad pursuit, and suddenly finds itself tangled up in a 
thick vineyard and far ahead of the foremost lines ; and here 
they are suddenly charged by a dozen strong squadrons of the 
Russian horse-guards. Napoleon, arriving at the eastern slope 
at this moment, launches in his own Mameluke squadrons and 
the chasseurs of the guard to the rescue. " They are in disorder 
there," he says to Rapp, the gallant aide-de-camp, who, with 
Savaiy, had been " adopted " in the military family of the em- 
peror from the staff of the dead Desaix. " That must be set to 
rights," and Rapp himself leads the horsemen in their dash. 
Down the slopes they go with thundering hoofs, with brilliant 
turbans and flashing scimetars, the chasseurs racing alongside; 
and despite the furious bellowings of the Russian guns, Rapp 



THE SECOND GREAT CAVALRY COMBAT. 470 

leads them through and over the Russian line and well in on 
the reserves. " Quick, Bessieres, support him," are Napoleon's 
prompt orders to the general of the guard, as all eyes follow the 
daring charge of the aide-de-camp ; and Bessieres, taking the 
order literally, calls on the horse-grenadiers in their towering 
bearskin caps and himself leads them down. Just in time, too, 
for Rapp has dashed into the very jaws of the Russian bear ; 
the Grand Duke Constantine has closed on him with the entire 
division of imperial horse-guards under their brave chief, Prince 
Repnin. Rapp is savagely hacked with sabres, but cannot be 
unhorsed. Colonel Morland, of the French chasseurs, is killed, 
and it would soon be all over with the light-armed Mamelukes 
and chasseurs but for the tremendous onset of Bessieres with the 
" heavies ; " and now ensues the second great cavalry combat of 
Austerlitz. Guardsmen against guardsmen under the very eyes 
of the emperors. Either sovereign at this moment could send 
the grape of his batteries mto the group of the opposite head- 
quarters ; but artillery, infantry and all cease firing in that im- 
mediate vicinity for three or four minutes to watch this battle of 
the giants. Only for a very few minutes, however, for in less 
than five, the war-trained swordsmen of Napoleon hew their way 
through the Muscovite squadrons, bend them back, burst beyond 
and drive them rearwards in broken flight; while Rapp, covered 
with blood, rides back to his emperor, leading with him Prince 
Repnin, a prisoner. 

And now, following up this great triumph, Bernadotte, whose 
men have not yet had a chance to pull trigger, pushes forward 
Drouet's division upon the fort-guards of Alexander, while Van- 
damme still storms at Miloradovich ; and these fresh troops, in- 
spired by the success of their comrades and determined to be 
satisfied with nothing less complete, leap forward to the charge 
on the one solidly standing remnant of the grand centre of that 
morning. The imperial guardsmen of Russia prove to be in- 
ferior in mettle, for, seeing all broken to their right and left, their 
stand is but a short one. In a few minutes they are driven back 
into the hamlet of Kresnowitz; from there out on the open slopes, 
and now not one of the allies remains fighting on the plateau of 
Pratzen. 



480- AUSIKRT.ITZ. 

It is one o'clock. The sun has been shining in cloudless splen- 
dor throughout the brilliant wintry day, yet the smoke of battle 
hangs dark over the slopes to the east and south. Well back on 
the plateau, in the full radiance of the unobscured sun, stands 
the imperial guard of France, with its batteries, with Oudinot's 
grenadiers, with much of its cavalry, with more than half of 
Bernadotte's corps, and these men have not been engaged at all. 
Austerlitz has been won without them — for won it is. 

Far to the north. Prince Bagration is held powerless in front 
of Suchet ; the rest of the Russian right is scattering everywhere 
over the open country. The centre is pounded to pieces and is 
falling back in disorder through Austerlitz, and making for the 
Olmiltz road. The plateau is won to France, the allied army 
thrown wide asunder ; but, down there under the southern slopes, 
down there towards the ponds and Telnitz, its grand left wing, 
over 30,000 strong, is still fighting furiously in the confined 
space ; and now comes their turn. We have said that Napo- 
leon would be content with no mere victory. He means to 
crush out the power of his opponents. Now he proceeds to 
do it. 

Leaving Bernadotte with his corps, and the panting divisions 
of Vandamme and St. Hilaire to hold the Pratzen and to sup- 
port him, should he need support. Napoleon now faces south- 
ward ; calls upon the guard and Oudinot, and with these, the 
flower of his grand army, the emperor marches to envelop the 
wing of Buxhovden. 

He comes none too soon. Davout and Friant are well-nigh 
exhausted. With less than 10,000 men they have been keeping 
at bay for hours a force four times as great, although most 
clumsily handled ; but close under the heights at Sokolnitz, 
Pribyschewski's and Langeron's infantry were now rapidly gain- 
ing ground. Legrand, on the western bank, is about ready to 
let go his hold on the village. Friant, galloping to and fro, has 
had four horses killed under him, and his men are sadly dimin- 
ished in numbers. It looks as though at last Sokolnitz must go, 
and the Russians win the way to the Vienna road; but suddenly, 
marching down the slopes behind the dense masses on the east- 



ANNIIIILATPIG BUXHOVDEN'S DIVISION. 481 

em bank, come heavy columns of infantry, over whose heads 
are waving the beautiful tricolor and dazzling eagles of France. 
Half expecting such a catastrophe, Langeron calls off such men 
as he can control, and rapidly runs back southward to Buxhov- 
den's position; but most of his men and Pribyschewski's are 
caught between two galling fires. Rapidly the French columns 
deploy into advancing lines, firing steadily, fast as they can re- 
load, and Legrand's and Friant's men redouble their efforts oix 
the western shore. It is more than the Russians — more than any 
troops could be expected to stand. They break up into disorder; 
some rush off one way, some another, and hundreds are shot 
down or taken prisoners right there. Langeron, in a fury of 
excitement and rage, gallops up to Buxhovden, who has been an 
inert spectator of the scene, though Doctorow's powerful col- 
umn is there near him at Telnitz. The excitable Frenchman has 
been domg his best for his adopted country this day, and now 
he vehemently pomts out to Buxhovden the new danger — the 
swarms of enemies descending upon them from the Pratzen. 

" You see nothing but enemies everywhere," is Buxhovden's 
thick reply. 

"And you are not in a state to see them anywhere," is Lang- 
eron's insubordinate but deserved retort. It is too late to do 
anything, however. By this time Vandamme's division is rested, 
and Napoleon, still reserving his guards for an emergency, sends 
his linesmen charging down the slopes upon the flank and rear of 
Doctorow's men. Buxhovden shouts to Doctorow to save him- 
self as best as he can, puts spurs to his horse and gallops off 
between the ponds and the Pratzen in front of the advancing 
lines. Several hundred soldiers escape with him that way, but 
Langeron and Doctorow stand and fight like brave men. Now, 
however, they are being assailed by nearly equal numbers from 
two sides, and they can see that the heights are crowned by the 
French guard. All is over then. There is no hope for support, 
no safety but in retreat. The batteries of the guard, unlim- 
bering on the crest, thunder over the heads of Vandamme's men 
and send their missiles crashing through the crowded hosts of 
Russians. In vain their generals strive to steady them. First 



482 AUSTERLITZ. 

in squads, then in crowds, then in soHd masses they are surging 
back ; only one line of escape is possible : those smooth-faced, 
frozen ponds. Dozens of the slightly wounded are already well 
across them. Then dozens of the stragglers begin to scurry 
o\'er. Then crowds of the fugitives are thronging out on the 
new ice, horsemen begin to appear here and there in the crowds, 
the groups thicken into a compact mass, and then — then comes 
a backward rush, a fearful cry, and first there is a bending, 
swaying in the icy flooring, then with loud crash it gives way, 
and with despairing shrieks thousands of men are struggling in 
the waters. It is an awful moment, but worse is to come. The 
ice holds firm on one or two of the smaller ponds, and across 
these hundreds of fugitives are hastening. Napoleon relentlessly 
orders his gunners to load with solid shot, and from the plung- 
ing heights of the Pratzen to shower them down on the ice itself, 
and now the scene baffles all description. Doctorow's men are es- 
caping the death of soldiers at the front, only to meet the death 
of worthless curs at the rear. The French guns smash their 
frail ice raft, they are plunged in the death-cold waters and 
drowned in helpless misery. 

But Doctorow still has a fine division of infantry that stands 
firm — all Buxhovden's guns and the Austrian cavalry. With 
these he makes gallant defence, slowly retiring up the slopes 
south of the ponds and resisting all efforts to break him. Cav- 
alry being needed, Beaumont's division of dragoons from Murat's 
corps comes over from the extreme left and is sent in to capture 
the guns and scatter Kienmeyer's cavalry. They succeed in 
driving off the worn-out Austrian horse, but the staunch foot- 
men of Doctorow stand by their guns and Beaumont cannot 
wrest them away. Soult's infantry pressing forward with well- 
aimed volleys succeed at last in shooting down horses, drivers, 
gunners and supports. The guns are rushed upon and seized. 
Friant's division crosses the Goldbach and attacks Doctorow's 
remnant in flank, and at last, abandoned, harassed and worn out, 
hundreds of officers and men beg for quarter and throw down 
their arms ; others slowly and painfully continue the retreat tow- 
ard the eastward. 



"SOLDIERS, I AM SATISFIED WITH YOU." 45.3 

Long before sunset, sitting in his saddle on the summit of 
the Pratzen, Napoleon could see, for miles around, the wintry 
landscape black with fleeing foemen. Right, left and front the 
lancers and hussars were pushed out to complete the work and 
bring in the prisoners, and, as the Sun of Austerlitz sank lower 
in the west and the chill of evening stole over the scene, and the 
upland breeze began to sweep away the last vestiges of sulphur 
smoke still clinging about the ravines and hollows, the great 
leader dismounted at his camp-fire wearied but triumphant. 
" The Battle of the Emperors " — the never-to-be-forgotten field 
of Austerlitz — was won. 

" Soldiers, I am satisfied with you," he wrote. " In the battle 
of Austerlitz you have justified all that I expected from your 
intrepidity; you have decorated your eagles with immortal 
glory. An army of one hundred thousand men, commanded 
by the Emperors of Russia and Austria, has been in less than 
four hours either cut in pieces or dispersed. Those who escaped 
your weapons are drowned in the lakes. 

" Forty colors, the standards of the imperial guard of Russia, 
one hundred and twenty pieces of cannon, more than thirty 
thousand prisoners, are the result of this ever celebrated battle. 
That infantry, so highly vaunted and superior in number, could 
not withstand your shocks, and thenceforward you have no 
rivals to fear. Thus in two months this third coalition has been 
vanquished and dissolved. Peace cannot now be far distant, 
but, as I promised my people before I passed the Rhine, I will 
make only such a peace as gives us guarantees and ensures 
rewards to our allies. 

" Soldiers, when all that is necessary to secUre the welfare and 
prosperity of our country is accomplished, I will lead you back 
to France : there you will be the object of my tenderest con- 
cern. My people will see you again with joy, and it will be 
sufficient to say, I was at the battle of Austerlitz, for them to 
reply, ' There is a brave man.' " 

The immediate results of Austerlitz were indeed prodigious. 
Nearly 15,000 were killed or wounded in the army of the allies 
(2,000 were drowned in the ponds), and 20,000 wers taken 



484 AUSTERLITZ. 

prisoners, among them eight generals and ten color^els; and 
later reports than reached Napoleon at the time he wrote his 
proclamation make the captured guns mount up to l8o, besides 
an immense quantity of provisions and large numbers of baggage 
wagons. The French loss on the contrary was between 7,000 
and 8,000 killed and wounded. 

The day after the battle Napoleon moved his headquarters to 
the Chateau of Austerlitz and gave his great victory its name ; 
but, meantime, vigorous pursuit had been made, and on Decem- 
ber 4th, the Emperors of Austria and Russia, having had a 
decided " falling-out " since their common disaster, Francis of 
Austria sought an interview with Napoleon, and in that inter- 
view the preliminaries of a peace were arranged. The war of 
the first coalition against France had lasted five years. The 
second had lasted two, and this, the third and greatest, had 
lasted but three months, after the most brilliant and amazing 
campaign on the part of Napoleon. No wonder Alexander 
of Russia expressed himself glad to get back to his frontiers 
with even the remnant of an army. The third coalition was at 
an end. 

In three weeks after Austerlitz (December 26th) the treaty 
of peace was signed at Presburg. Austria gave up to France all 
her Italian and Adriatic provinces, including Venice, Friule, Is- 
tria and Dalmatia; the Tyrol was awarded to Bavaria; and to 
sum up, in short, the losses of the empire, it may be said, that 
one-sixth of her people and almost one-si.xth of her income was 
the cost, to Austria, of her third attempt to humble France. As 
a further consequence of Napoleon's victory of Austerlitz, the 
old German Empire fell to pieces, and in its place there rose 
" The Confederation of the Rhine." 



JENA. 




HE astounding campaign of Austerlitz served 
only to increase the respect for the miHtary 
prowess of Napoleon and the dread of his 
ambitious designs. All Europe was alive 
with his fame, and England, baffled and 
chagrined by his success, was still determined 
to undermine if she could not overthrow hinr. 
Soon after Austerlitz, a French army con- 
quered Naples, and Napoleon seated his 
brother Joseph on the throne as king. In 
June, 1806, he made another brother, Louis, King of Holland, 
and then Prussia decided that his aggressions were aimed at her 
peace and safety, and, all alone apparently, declared war against 
France. It was a foolhardy move. For years Prussia had 
been living on the laurels of Frederick the Great. He had 
placed her at the very head of the military nations of Europe ; 
but since his death she had been at a stand-still. Bereft of his 
guiding and vigorous hand, there was no one to keep her in 
pace with the ever-improving systems of surrounding nations. 
France and her generals had been of little account against her 
during the Seven Years' War ; but France under the now great 
Napoleon was very different as a war power. France was now a 
giant, and her armies, leisurely returning from the conquest of 
Austria, were still in strong force in the heart of Germany. 
Prussia could hope for no outside aid. Austria was crushed by 
Austerlitz. Russia was far away across the Vistula, and the 
young tsar was still stunned by the " thunderbolt," with which, 
as Napoleon had promised, he had wound up the war of the 

4^ 



486 JENA. 

third coalition. At this very cri.sis England herself declared 
war against Prussia ; but before her ponderous machinery could 
be set in motion, her hated rival, France, had taken the initiative 
and left her nothing to prey upon in lower Germany, unless she 
felt ready to take it from under the very guns of Napoleon ; 
and, eager as was England to meet the French at sea, where few 
Frenchmen were ever at home, and however eager she might 
be to stir up other nations into battle with Napoleon over the 
trodden fields and highways of Europe, England herself was 
wise, and withheld her soldiers. Thus it resulted that Prussia 
with perhaps 200,000 available men, and a very weak-minded 
and vacillating monarch at the he;.d of them, was daring enough 
to challenge Napoleon to mortal combat. 

The Prussians were brave, and under old Fritz Magnus had 
been indomitable ; but except their brief campaign in 1792, when 
they undertook to interfere in the Republican move of France, 
they had had no field experience with surrounding armies. 
Her officers, however, were inordinately vain of the record won 
by their fathers in the Seven Years' War ; were full of conceit 
in their own ability to win as much and more. France, they 
said, could do well enough fighting disunited and unskilled 
Austrians, or the ignorant and clumsy hordes of Russia ; but 
let her dare measure swords with Prussia, and — Shades of Grosser 
Fritz! the science and tactics, the drill and discipline of Pots- 
dam would wind up the Napoleonic army in one bagatelle of a 
battle. This was undoubtedly the belief of the j'ounger ele- 
ment of the Prussian army. There were sage old heads who 
thought differently. 

As for Napoleon, he never had a doubt. Prussia's pretext for 
the war was that Napoleon quartered his army in the provinces 
on her borders. Its presence there was a menace, and she de- 
manded that he withdraw it at once behind the Rhine. The tone 
of the demand, whether just or not, roused the ire of the now 
doubly-arrogant emperor. He treated the message with cool in- 
difference, and prepared to pounce on Prussia the instant she de- 
clared war. To his brothers, the kings (of his creation) at Naples 
and Holland, he wrote that they need not be at all uneasy ; he 



PREPARING TO CRUSH RUSSIA. 487 

would finish this war quicker than the last, and put it out of the 
power of Prussia and her allies, should she have any, to stir for 
another ten years. And he meant it. 

Mayence on the Rhine was now, as before the Austerlitz cam- 
paign, his great depot of supplies. He bought vast quantities of 
corn along the fertile valley, and shipped it with a campaign's 
supply of hard bread, up the Mayn to Wiirtzburg, where, in upper 
Franconia, the main body of his army was speedily concentrated. 
The men were still wearing the uniforms of their Austrian war; 
they were thread-bare, but still soldierly and neat. Np.poleon 
half-laughingly told them that he would save the brilliant new 
garb for the fetes and triumphs awaiting them on their return to 
France. The old dress would do to beat Prussia in; but he took 
great care to see that warm and serviceable overcoats were sup- 
plied to the entire army, and that besides the new pair on his 
feet, each man had a new pair of shoes in his knapsack, the extra 
pair being a present from France; and with it he meant to tramp 
across Prussia to the very frontiers of the tsar. At the same time, 
he bought and sent forward thousands of draft and saddle-horses, 
and by the formation of a new brigade of dragoon-guards and a 
division of infantry recruited along the Rhine, the Sambre and 
the Meuse, increased his grand reserve to over 16,000 men. 

For the war with Prussia the same general organization of the 
grand army was maintained. Six corps d'annee were speedily 
in readiness : Bernadotte, First corps, had 20,000 men ; Davout, 
Third corps, had 27,000; Soult, Fourth corps, had 32,000; Lan- 
nes. Fifth corps, had 22,000 ; Ney, Sixth corps, had 20,000, and 
Augereau, Seventh corps, had 17,000. The Second corps, under 
General Marmont, had been sent to Dalmatia, and was not to 
form part of the army of invasion. The cavalry corps was scat- 
tered through Franconia and Hesse-Darmstadt, wherever forage 
was to be had in plenty. Murat was still its commander, and it 
numbered 28,000 mounted men. Including the imperial guard 
and the reserves. Napoleon's total force fell not short of igo,ooo 
soldiers of all arms — a splendid, di.sciplined and thoroughly sea- 
soned army, fuUof the highest faith and pride in one another and 
in him. 



488 JENA. 

On the night of September 24th, Napoleon, accompanied by 
the Empress Josephine and that wily old diplomat, Talleyrand, 
started from Paris for the front. His army was concentrating 
close under the Thuringian mountains, facing Saxony. Ney and 
Soult on the right, around Bayreuth ; Davout and Bernadotte in 
the centre, near Bamberg; Lannes and Augereau on the left, 
near Coburg ; Murat, with the cavalrj', marching forward up the 
valley of the Mayn from Wiirtzburg. All -were ordered to be at 
their posts between October 3d and 4th. Marshals Kellerman 
and Mortier (the latter commanding the Eighth corps") were as- 
signed important duties on the Rhine. 

With the first week in October the King of Prussia, with his 
queen, his court, his generals and advisers, was at Erfurt, on the 
head waters of the west branch of the Saale, not more than forty- 
five miles on a bee-line from the left of the French position. 
There were two ways of getting into Prussia and down into the 
valley of the Elbe from where Napoleon's army was encamped. 
One was to face to the left, march by the flank along under the 
Thuringian forest-covered range northwestward through Mein- 
ingen to Eisenach, then eastward to Erfurt, Weimar and Leipsic. 
Three easy marches would carry Lannes and Augereau by this 
route to the Prussian headquarters. The other was to burst 
through the rugged passes of the Thuringian hills, and by way 
of Hof, Schleiz and Saalfeld, appear suddenly in the valley of 
the Saale behind Erfurt, thus turning and gaining the rear of 
the Prussian army ; but this last was a most difficult undertaking 
if any effort were made by the Saxons or Prussians to hold these 
narrow and tortuous defiles. Napoleon determined to burst 
through, however, hit to make the Pi-ussians believe lie was coming 
i/ie other way. To this end, Lannes was instructed to keep con- 
stantly pushing out parties to his left, as though strengthening 
bridges, mending roads and reconnoitring; and, in sore per- 
plexity and confusion, the king at Erfurt hardly knew what to 
do. He held a council on the 5th of October; sent a final demand 
to Napoleon on the 7th that he should instantly begin his retreat 
to the Rhine, withdraw every Frenchman behind that stream with 
no further delay; and, if he did not begin by the following morn- 



THE DUKE OF BRUNSWICK COMMANDS THE PRUSSIANS. 489 

ing, October 8th, he was warned to beware of the consequences. 
So far from having the desired effect, this note simply goaded 
Napoleon. General Berthier was with him when it came. " We 
will be punctual to the appointment," said he, " but instead of 
being in France on the 8th, we shall be in Saxony;" and instantly 
dictating one of his most martial and ringing proclamations to the 
army, he gave the orders to advance. He had with him at this 
moment 170,000 men, and if with them he could get between 
the Prussians and Leipsic and Berlin, he would be repeating the 
mancEuvre by which, a year before, he had disarmed Mack at 
Ulm. 

The Prussian army at this moment was in two independent 
bodies. The first, under the Duke of Brunswick, was now facing 
southwest near Erfurt, 90,000 strong, with the advance of the 
Duke of Weimar well to the front in the Thuringian forests, 
watching for the coming of the French. The second army had 
inarched into Saxony to virtually demand assistance from its luke- 
warm elector, and now, under the Prince of Hohenlohe, was in 
Franconia, facing southwestward, too, confronting the passes 
already mentioned ; and General Tauenzien, falling back from Bay- 
reuth when the French right wing approached that place, did not 
even occupy the passes, but retreated through them and formed as 
an advance-guard in front of the Prince of Hohenlohe at Schleiz. 
This army was perhaps 50,000 strong. Heavy reserves, equi- 
distant from Brunswick and Hohenlohe, made the Prussian field 
forces mount up to about 180,000 soldiers, Saxons included. 

The marshals and generals of the Grand Army of France we 
have already learned something about. Many of them were at 
Marengo, all were at Austerlitz ; but these Prussians are strangers. 
To the Duke of Brunswick had been intrusted the chief com- 
mand of the army, a selection greatly deplored by the vigorous 
young element, as the old veteran was in no condition physically 
to take the field. Prince Hohenlohe, on the contrary, was vig- 
orous, energetic, overbearing and impatient — impatient to an ex- 
tent that speedily became insubordination ; and the two wings of 
the army, separated by some thirty miles of ground, but a far 
wider gulf of conflicting interests and authorities^ soon lost their 



490 JENA. 

unity, and this was the divided force which the great master of 
the art of war was to find as the sole defence of Prussia. 

On the 8th of October, Murat, leading the light cavalry, dashed 
through the central defile into Thuringia, and, appearing sud- 
denly at Lobenstein, sent out strong detachments right and left 
«;o seize the openings of the other passes. Tauenzien fell back 
across the Saale, and on the morning of the 9th, the Grand Arm)- 
of France, from three mountain roads, was descending into tlie 
Saxon valley. Lannes and Augereau, after having for a week 
kept the Prussians in a ferment of excitement by their prepara- 
tions to march northward on Eisenach, had suddenly struck 
camp, disappeared in the opposite direction, and when next seen 
were deploying in front of Prince Hohenlohe over towards Saal- 
feld, where, on the morning of October loth, a brisk engagement 
took place between Lannes' men and the Prussian advance- 
guard, 9,000 strong, under Prince Louis. This gallant soldier 
made a brave but pitiably unscientific fight of it, and finding the 
day going against him and his two aides-de-camp killed, he him- 
self dashed in among the French hussars and, scorning to accept 
quarter, attacked the officer who summoned him to surrender, 
and drew upon himself the sword-thrust that stretched him, a 
glittering corpse, with his gay uniform and all his decorations, 
among the hostile hoofs of Murat's cavalry. " One of the au- 
thors of the war," said Napoleon, " Prince Louis was one of its 
first victims." With his death the vanguard fled, leaving twenty 
guns, 400 dead and wounded and 1,000 prisoners ; and this was 
the spirited prelude to the great battles of Jena and Auerstadt 
fought four days afterwards. 

Prince Hohenlohe, from the heights further down the Saale, 
looked on the disaster to his advance guard with keen dismay ; 
and the Duke of Brunswick, farther north beyond the plateau 
between Jena and Weimar, listened to the distant rumble of the 
guns with dismal apprehension. 

On the I ith, gathering his men as they emerged from the 
passes, and moving slowly and with great caution. Napoleon 
advanced into the valley of the Saale, intending as soon as all 
was clear to push eastward on Dresden, one hundred miles 



THE PRUSSIAN ARMY TN DIRE PLIGHT. 49] 

away. On the evening of the I3th, he and many of tlie divi- 
sions were in march toward Gera, way across the valley and full 
twenty miles to the east of Jena. 

And now the Prussian army was in dire plight. It was evi- 
dent that Napoleon meant to push on for the great cities of the 
upper Elbe, and seize the crossings of the stream ; then he could 
easily march northward on their capital-, Berlin. The king, the 
Duke of Brunswick and all, broke up in confusion at Weimar, 
and the main Prussian army in five divisions began its retreat, 
hoping to reach the important town of Naumburg in time to 
seize the bridges across the Saale, nearly twenty miles northeast 
of Jena. 

But Napoleon had anticipated them. Davout with the Third 
corps, supported by Bernadotte with the First, had already been 
directed thither; had passed to the east of Prince Hohenlohe, 
and the Third corps was in firm possession of Naumburg and 
the bridges at dawn of the 13th. Meantime, Lannes and 
Augereau had been wheeled to the north and closed in on the 
university town of Jena, while Napoleon, believing that now the 
Prussians would endeavor to reach the Saale at that point, 
determined on giving them a beating then and there. 

Ney and Soult were ordered to march at once to join Lannes 
and Augereau, and thus he would have four corps to concentrate 
on the Prussians with Murat to support him, should his theory 
prove correct ; and Davout at Naumburg, and Bernadotte mid- 
way between Jena and Naumburg, could hold the line of the 
Saale below. All troops marching across the valley towards 
Gera were recalled and directed on the spires of the little town 
lying there under the bare brown shoulders of the Thurineian 
foot-hills. 

Jena was then, as now, the seat of a great university. It lay 
on the west bank of the Saale. All to the east across the river 
was flat and open. All to the west was bluff, precipice and 
ravme. Of these heights the most formidable was the Land- 
grafenberg, which commanded the town, and from whose sum- 
mit a rolling plateau, stretching northwestward to Weimar 
could be seen at every point. The road from Jena to Weimar 



492 JENA. 

wound its way up a steep ravine west of the town until it 
reached the plateau, and then sped away in a nearly straight 
line for the latter city. Behind this road and facing the south, 
not Jena, Prince Hohenlohe had now drawn up his lines, for he 
expected Lannes and Augereau to come up the weet bank after 
their triumph at Saaifeld, and attack him full front on the 
plateau. He had determined to fall back and join the main 
army in its retreat to the Elbe ; but believing Napoleon to 
be hastening away eastward towards Leipsic and Dresden, 
and that only two corps were left near Jena, he thought to 
recover his lost laurels and revenge himself for the blow at his 
advance guard. His right, therefore, reached nearly to Weimar, 
where it was supported by the division of General Rughel, a 
strong command of 17,000 men; while his left, on the heights 
overhanging Jena, was covered by the corps of General Tauen- 
zien. 

Meantime the old Duke of Brunswick, fearful of being caught 
in just such a trap as Napoleon had laid for the Austrian Mack, 
had faced about, and was marching with all speed for Naum- 
burg behind Hohenlohe, leaving the Duke of Weimar with his 
division, then exploring through the Thuringian forest, to get 
out of it as best they could. Ruchel was told to recall him if 
possible, and then rejoin the main body by rapid marches. 
The duke hoped to get down the east bank of the Saale to 
Magdeburg on the Elbe, the strongest fortification of interior 
Prussia. Fancy his dismay on finding his way barred by 
Davout. He learned it only too well on the afternoon of the 
13th, but pushed desperately ahead, bent on fighting his way 
through on the following day. 

Late on the 13th Napoleon himself arrived in haste at Jena 
and was conducted by Lannes up the slopes of the Landgrafen- 
berg, whence they could study the surroundings. The daring 
skirmishers of the Fifth corps had driven back the outposts of 
Tauenzien, and cleared a space on the crest which they held 
obstinately until reinforced. The emperor from here could see for 
miles in every direction, but the abrupt slopes from the plateau 
down to the valley of the Ilm to the north shut off the view of 



THE FRENCH ON THE LANDGRAFENBERG. 493 

the highway from Weimar to Naumburg, so that the heaw 
columns of the Prussian king, marching eastward, were not visi- 
ble, nor was it possible to estimate the number of men here on 
the plateau in front of him. He was now nearly opposite the 
left flank of Prince Hohenlohe's long line, and believing the 
entire Prussian army to be on the ground or within easy call. 
Napoleon sent orders to Ney and Soult to march all night, if 
need be, but to pass beyond Jena, and work their way up the 
heights below the town, so as to come in on his right and hem 
the foe from the east. The next thing was to get Lannes' corps 
up on the Landgrafenberg. 

Infantrymen such as he had, could climb anything, and early 
in the evening 20,000 linesmen were clambering up the slopes 
and spreading out to the front, crowding back the skirmish lines 
of Tauenzien, and still Hohenlohe cherished the idea that Lan- 
nes and Augereau were coming upon his front with the dawn 
of the 14th, and made no effort to strengthen the division cover- 
ing his left. Thus he lost the commanding height behind Jena, 
for, with the Fifth corps once firmly established there, he had not 
men enough to win it back. Following Lannes' men came 
4,000 of the imperial guard, who bivouacked in a hollow square 
at the summit, and Napoleon's tent was pitched in their midst. 

No sleep for him yet, however. The hardest work of all was 
to come. Lannes' guns must be hauled to the top ; and, rest- 
lessly riding to and fro, the emperor at last came upon a narrow, 
winding mountain-road that would answer the purpose. Sap- 
pers quickly blasted the rocky sides where the path was too 
narrow, and then while Napoleon, holding a torch in his own 
hand, lent his energetic presence to the work, urging and in- 
spiring everywhere, the pioneers toiled at the roadway to make 
it practicable. By ten o'clock, in the beautiful starlit night, 
with twelve horses hitched to each carriage, the gunners began 
the task of dragging their batteries to the summit. By mid- 
night all were parked at the crest, and, calmly satisfied that all 
would be well on the morrow, the emperor had betaken himself 
to his bivouac, and, if one story be credible, before going to sleep, 
was engaged in drawing up a plan of studies to be pursued 
31 



49i JENA. 

at Madame Campari's female school, in which he felt great in- 
terest. 

Off to the northwest, towards Weimar, the plateau was one 
blaze of Prussian camp-fires, but the summit of the Landgrafenberg 
was comparatively dark, and in the chill night air the men drew 
together and sought such sleep and shelter as they could find. 
With Suchet's division on the right, the guards in the centre, 
and Gazan's division on the left, the emperor meant to assault 
Tauenzien's lines at dawn. Ney and Murat were to follow up 
in his tracks as soon as he had advanced. Soult, marching back 
from Gera, was to climb the ravines below Jena and get to the 
Prussian rear, while Augereau, keeping concealed in the " Miihl- 
thal " and other ravines around the Landgrafenberg, was to act 
in vigorous support on his left. 

At four o'clock the emperor was again in saddle. A thick 
fog like that at Austerlitz enveloped the plateau and the valle}- 
of the Saale to his right. Nevertheless Napoleon had been able 
to see during the night that not only was the whole countr)- 
towards Weimar ablaze with Prussian fires, but that to the 
north the horizon was red and glaring from the same cause. 
This led him to the belief that while a strong force of the king's 
army might have gone towards Naumburg, they had halted for 
the night in the Ilm valley between Auerstadt and the plateau 
back of Jena, and would be reinforcing Prince Hohenlohe first 
thing in the morning. This had led to his sending orders to 
Davout and Bernadotte which had a peculiar bearing on the 
great battle to be fought the same day with Jena. Davout was 
directed to be sure and hold the bridges over the Saale at 
Naumburg, but at the same time, if possible, to fall upon the 
Prussian rear while the emperor was attacking in front on the 
plateau. Bernadotte was directed to assist Davout if near him 
when the order was received, or to throw himself on the Prussian 
flank if he had already taken a strong position at Dornburg, a 
little town nearly midway between Jena and Naumburg. We 
shall see how strangely Bernadotte interpreted this order when 
we come to Auerstadt. 

It was still too dark and foggy to attack, but not for Napoleon 



"VIVE L' EMPEREUR." 495; 

to be up and doing. Riding right in among the bivouac fires 
of his men, he gathered the soldiers about him in one great 
concourse, and in his half-playful, confidential way explained to 
them his hopes and plans for the day. He showed them that 
by their energetic movements they had secured a position which 
threatened the Prussians with as complete ruin as befell the 
Austrians last year; that if they thoroughly beat the Prussians 
it would destroy them : they could not rally, could not reach 
the Elbe, much less the Oder ; that Russia could not then 
assist them, and the whole war would be finished as decisively, 
as suddenly in one battle as was that of the third coalition at 
Austerlitz. " But keep on your guard against their cavalry," 
he said. " They are indeed formidable ; meet them in squares 
and be firm." Glory and rewards were promised the corps 
which should most distinguish themselves, and disgrace should 
await those that failed him. His stirring words were greeted 
with wild shouts of " Vive I' Empereur," and then ranks were 
formed. Forward was the word, and through the dim, chill 
light of breaking day, the lines swept down upon the Prussian 
host. At the head was Claparede's brigade, that had so distin- 
guished itself on the left at Austerlitz. 

In one long line they stretched across the plateau, but their 
flanks were covered by heavy columns of Lannes' corps, while 
Vedel's brigade marched in support. To their left, with the guns 
well out in front, Gazan's division pushed forward at the same 
time ; Suchet feeling his way towards the hamlet of Closewitz, 
Gazan towards that of Cospoda, which were heavily garrisoned 
by the Prussian corps of Tauenzien. For a few moments it was 
all a blind groping through the fog. Officers well out ahead 
gave their orders in low tones, and, thus guided, the lines swept 
forward down a gentle declivity, then up the opposite rise, and, 
arriving at the crest, came suddenly upon long ranks of soldiery 
looming up through the fog — the Saxon brigade and Zweifel's 
Prussians. " Fire ! " rang the word of command, and in an in- 
stant the plateau of Jena flashed with the lightning of their mus- 
ketry. Claparede's volley echoed the crash, and then with venge- 
ful bayonets his men sprang forward upon the foe. Far to the 



496 JENA. 

west and north the volleys, the clieers were heard, and Prince 
Hohenlohe, vaulting into saddle over near Weimar, spurred 
madly eastward to see what it meant. The booming of Gazan's 
guns told him a most unwelcome tale before he could traverse 
half the distance ; and when he reached the position of Tauen- 
zien, it was only to find that the villages were gone. Their 
stony walls were no longer points of rest for his left. The 
French had dashed upon them in the resistle.ss force of their 
first charge ; had carried all before them, and Tauenzien's men 
were doubling up on that magnificent brigade of Cerrini, which, 
steadily advancing and firing by battalion, had checked the first 
onset of Suchet's divisions ; but it was broad daylight by this 
time, and the veteran generals and skillful staff-officers of the 
French, schooled in incessant warfare, speedily aligned and 
strengthened their ranks. Once more, in absolutely beautiful 
order, the Fifth corps resumed its advance towards the west, and, 
despite a gallant resistance, a bloody and terrible combat, the 
ground west of the two villages was carried and held. Napo- 
leon had crushed the Prussian left, captured twenty guns, and 
had now room in which to deploy his army. Soult's divisions 
were still in march from Gera ; only St. Hilaire's had arrived, 
but that, followed by Murat with his impatient cavalry, was now 
ordered up from Jena and began to file out upon the plateau. 
Augereau was rapidly climbing the southern slopes to reach the 
left of Lannes. Ney, too eager to wait until he could bring 
forward his entire corps, had pushed ahead with his voltigeurs 
and light troops, and was panting up the ravines below Jena to 
gain the plateau ; and now Napoleon desired to give his men a 
breathing spell of an hour while his rear columns were coming 
on the field. 

Prince Hohenlohe, meantime, had discovered that all his dis- 
positions must be changed, and that he must form a line across 
instead of along the Weimar road. He acted with great spirit 
and promptitude. The bulk of the infantry under General Gra- 
wert was marched towards the east to replace the shattered corps 
of Tauenzien ; the Saxon divisions, the rallied brigade of Cer- 
rini, Boguslawski's Prussians and a powerful array of field-bat- 



NEY'S EAGERNESS FOR THE FRAY, 499 

teries were swung round to the south and eastward so as to form 
his new right ; and there, resting on the "Scluiecke," as the Ger- 
mans called the undulating slopes near the Weimar road, they 
were ordered to hold that highway to the last extremity. Dy- 
herrn's brigade and Tauenzien's sore-stricken corps were placed 
in reserve. General Holzendorf, with the newly formed left wing, 
was ordered to fall upon the heads of Soult's columns and drive 
them back, down the valley of the Saale. Ruchel, way to the 
rear at Weimar, was urged to come up with his strong corps, 
and then, placing himself at the head of all his cavalry and 
horse-batteries, the gallant prince galloped to the front and cen- 
tre to restore the battle. 

All this, Napoleon, from the height of the Landgrafenberg, 
watched with calm satisfaction. He did not intend to resume 
the battle until Soult, Augereau and Ney were all in position, 
and Murat on the heights with the whole cavalry corps; but 
Ney, as we have said, was too eager to get into the fight, and 
leaving his division commanders to bring up the toiling foot to 
their assigned positions on the plateau, he had galloped forward 
with the Third hussars and the Tenth chasseurs ; his light in- 
fantry battalions had followed him unseen by Napoleon through 
the early fog, and when that cleared away and the whole plateau 
was visible, while the columns of the Sixth corps were crawling 
up to their proper place on the ridges north of the Landgrafen- 
berg, here was the corps commander himself right in the centre ; 
and, in his eagerness for his share in the battle, he had pushed 
squarely in between Lannes and Augereau, and was facing the 
little village of Vierzehn-Heiligen— the very centre of the battle- 
field. He got there, as luck would have it, just at the instant 
that Hohenlohe came thundering up with the light-guns, and, 
knowing nothing of Napoleon's orders to cease firing until the 
general signal should be given from the Landgrafenberg, and be- 
ing accustomed in his impetuous way to fight on sight, he rushed 
his chasseurs at the unlimbering batteries, and in less than a 
minute the French horsemen were tumbling over the gunners 
and drivers ; had captured seven guns and were riding off with 
them, when down came the Prussian cuirassiers to the rescue. 



500 JENA. 

' Then Ney had to launch the Third hussars to help the chasseurs, 
and as these two light regiments were by no means strong enough 
to cope with thirty squadrons of mail-clad horsemen, he led his 
infantry forward at the double and opened his volleys on the 
Prussians, forming square to resist their charges and strewing 
the ground with their dead and wounded. 

But all this was contrary to the plans of Napoleon, who was 
astounded to see on his battle checker-board a move he had 
never authorized. In high displeasure he came galloping down 
to the front, bent on breaking the general who had dared disobey 
his orders. It never occurred to him that it could be Ney, who, 
by good rights, should still be plodding up the heights below 
Jena ; but when he reached the front and saw those two squares 
defying the whole force of Hohenlohe's charging cuirassiers, his 
wrath gave way to soldierly admiration ; and when told that it 
was Ney, he could not but laugh with delight; the whole thing 
was so characteristic of that dare-devil, battle-loving fighter. 

Bertrand came up with two regiments to support Ney, for 
Murat and Augereau were not yet in position. Lannes hastened 
forward with two brigades of his solid infantry, and now the bat- 
tle of Jena was resumed in the centre with ten-fold fury. 

For full an hour, from ten until eleven o'clock, the vortex of 
the fight raged right here around that little hamlet. Ney had 
sprung a hornet's nest and had to bear the brunt of it with his 
little elite brigade and such aid as Lannes could give him. Un- 
hampered for the time on either flank, Hohenlohe was able to 
borrow men from them, and to concentrate all his energies on 
the centre. Thus it happened that the fiercest fighting of that 
bloody day occurred between these hours and about this spot. 
For years afterwards the men who survived in Grawert's Prus- 
sian division and the two brigades of Lannes and Ney were 
looked upon with something like awe by the rest of the armies. 
Ney's infantry were three battalions, one of grenadiers, one of 
voltigeurs, and the 25th light infantry. Lannes' were the 21st 
light, and the 34th, 64th, 88th, looth and 103d infantry of the 
line; ("88" seems to be a fighting number wherever it is met, 
for no regiment in the English army is more famous than its 



TERRIBLE FIGHTING IN THE CENTRE. 50I 

88th — the Connaught Rangers, the fighting " Faugh-a-ballaghs,") 
and these French 88th seem to have fought Uke demons among 
the walls of Vierzehn-Heiligen. On both sides the carnage 
was terrible — never forgotten in either army. Only a few months 
since (the summer of '83) there was published in the Paris Fig- 
aro a letter written in November, 1806, on the banks of the 
Vistula by Colonel Taupin of the 103d describing, to an old 
friend at Lille, the part taken by his regiment in that desperate 
stand up, muzzle-to-muzzle fight. According to Colonel Tau- 
pin, the emperor did not sleep as soundly between midnight and 
four o'clock as Thiers and John S. C. Abbot would have us be- 
lieve, for at two in the morning the colonel says he was called 
upon by Napoleon himself to take some of his men and creep 
forward with him to reconnoitre the plateau, but then, appear- 
ing perfectly satisfied that the Prussians had weakened their left 
to strengthen the right and centre, he had gone back to his tent. 
It is of the fight around the centre, however, that he gives most 
thrilling particulars. The 103d, he says, in charging broke 
through the first line of Prussians, pursued them to the second, 
which stood firm, and then from both flanks and from the front 
a terrible fire mowed down his gallant men. " In less than four 
minutes," he writes, " my regiment had twenty-three officers 
and three hundred and eighty-seven soldiers killed »r wounded. 
... In charging I was on horseback in front of the centre of 
the first division of my regiment with General Campana and his 
two aides-de-camp. The captain of the leading grenadier com- 
pany, his first sergeant and two other sergeants were killed; his 
first and second lieutenants were wounded ; fifty-one grenadiers 
were killed or wounded, and noione of tis or our horses zvas sirucky 
This was indeed remarkable, and the colonel goes on to say, 
with much gravity : " If anybody else had told you this you 
wouldn't have believed it." Taupin's description has certainly 
more warmth of coloring than even the glowing official reports 
of the emotional Frenchmen, but its publication at this late day 
goes to show how the terrible fighting of the centre at Jena has 
never been forgotten. 

Grawert's line rested, in part, on some rather commanding 



502 JENA. 

ground, which Lannes assailed with great fur>- ; but here, on his 
right, he was exposed to the fierce charges of that fine cavalry 
against which Napoleon had warned them to stand firm, and 
here he was brought to a halt. So superb were the assaults of 
the cuirassiers at this stage of the battle that, though still urg- 
ing Ruchel to hasten to his support, Hohenlohe ventured to 
assert that the French were already defeated ; that all that was 
needed was his presence to convert their wavering halt into 
tumultuous rout. Meantime the furious fire of his batteries was 
concentrated on Ney's position in the hamlet which had burst 
into flames, and thus for a time he held the battle. This might 
be termed its second stage. 

But now came the third. Soult's infantry, by noon, was up the 
heights; had received with serene coolness the blustering attack 
of Holzendorf 's division ; had stood him off while the entire 
corps deployed, and then advanced westward across the plateau, 
slowly, steadily driving the outnumbered Prussians before them. 
At the same time, to the dismay of Prince Hohenlohe, strong 
columns were reported forming line opposite his right near the 
Schnecke, and almost as he began to believe it possible to drive 
Ney out of Vierzehn-Heiligen, the entire plateau to the south 
and west of that unlucky hamlet was covered by the advancing 
line of Augereau — the Seventh corps with its 17,000 was up 
the heights and sweeping down upon his right. Desjardin's 
division released Nej' from his danger, and leisurely attacked the 
Saxons on the Schnecke, while Heudelet, forming in charging 
column on the Jena and Weimar road, awaited the signal to 
push ahead. Then Soult's divisions, advancing from Closewitz 
towards the north of the plateau, got in a flank fire with their 
guns on the Prussian centre, and, seeing everything now in readi- 
ness, Napoleon smilingly waved forward the imperial guard, 
struck spurs to his horse and ordered a general advance of the 
whole line. Grawert's division, already nearly exhausted from 
its terrible combat with Lannes, was now the first to go down 
under the resistless impulse of the French attack. The grena- 
diers of Hohenlohe and Hahn were killed almost to a man, 
falling under ball or bayonet. Grawert was severely wounded, 



THE PRUSSIANS DEFEATED AND rANIC-STRICKEN. 503 

for he and his proud Prussians would not run ; but right and 
left all was now panic and dismay. Tauenzien's remnants, Dy- 
herrn's reserves, Cerrini's fine brigade, all were in confusion and 
flight ; whole batteries were abandoned ; the gunners cut the 
traces, leaped on the horses and scattered for the rear; prisoners 
were swept in by battalions, guns captured by whole batteries, 
standards picked up from the ground. In vain Hohenlohe faced 
the rout and strove to stem the tide with his heavy cavalry, — there 
was no finer in the world — but against their massive chargers 
and solid armor the French light chasseurs and nimble hussars, 
wild with the enthusiasm of victory, dared to charge again and 
again. 

And now Hohenlohe implored Ruchel to come. " Come with 
all speed, but prepared to meet them half-way. Come with in- 
tervals in your line through which the fugitives may rush." 
What a contrast to the confident despatches of an hour ago ! 
and Ruchel was coming — to his death. 

With his fine corps already deployed in battle order as though 
anticipating the need of this bitter moment; with his infantr>' in 
two long lines, his cavalry massed on their left flank, the fine 
Saxon horse commanded by General Zeschwitz marching on his 
right, he came in steady disciplined order up the gradual slope 
of the plateau. Far over to his left front he could see the fugi- 
tives from Hohenlohe's battered army fleeing for life down into 
the Ilm valley, and way out across the plateau to his right front 
the Saxon division in two great squares slowly retiring down 
the Schnecke before the charging corps of Augereau, but that 
sight was as nothing compared with the spectacle immediately 
before him. The great highway, the broad fields on both sides 
were thronged with panic-stricken soldiers ; all order, discipline, 
duty forgotten, in one great huddling, shouting, struggling, 
desperate mass the once superb parade regiments of Prussia 
came swarming down, and close at their heels the vengeful 
sabres of the French light cavalry were plying their bloody 
work, and the horse-batteries, galloping almost in among them, 
then halting, swinging round their black muzzles in the twink- 
ling of an eye, added horror to their flight by deluging the 
wretched mob with shell and grape-shot. 



504 JENA. 

In vain Ruclicl strove to rally their foremost and align them 
with his battalions. It was a torrent no human being could 
control. It swept over his ranks, for Soult with the French 
cavalry swooped upon the Prussian squadrons on his left, then 
outflanked the line with St. Hilaire's cheering infantry. Ruchel's 
left gave way, and striving to rally them, this ardent and vehe- 
ment patriot reeled from his saddle sliot through and through, 
and was borne dying from the field. Even had he lived he 
could have availed nothing; for at this instant, as though enraged 
at havmg been so long held idle spectators of this terrible battle- 
picture, there came thundering down the plateau with tread that 
shook the very earth, the grand reserve of dragoons and cuiras- 
siers, the heavy cavalry of France led on by Murat in person, 
and now Ruchel's corps crumbled up with the rest and swept 
haplessly, hopelessly to the rear, while Zeschwitz with his Saxon 
cavalry bravely sped forward to rescue if possible their comrade 
infantry. Odd as it may seem, the Prussians were in full flight 
all over the plateau. Only the Saxons, whom they affected to 
treat with patronizing courtesy, remained firm in their ranks. 
Calling off some thousands of his " heavies " from the mad pur- 
suit, Murat dashed them at the Saxon squares, and at last, 
mowed down by the guns, charged agam and again by the 
massive squarlrons, there was nothing left for them but surren- 
der. Forced into the war against their will by the arrogance of 
their boastful neighbors, the Saxons had yet the satisfaction of 
being the last on the field, and after the battle, of bemg compli- 
mented by Napoleon himself on their courage and discipline. 

And so Jena was won. " Of the 70,000 Prussians who had 
appeared on the field of battle," says M. Thiers, "not a single 
corps remained entire, not one retreated hi order. Out of 
100,000 French, composed of the corps of Marshals Soult, Lan- 
nes, Augcrcau, Ney and Murat, and the guard, not more than 
50,000 had fought, and they had been sufficient to overthrow 
the Prussian army." 

Now while Prussia had hardly 70,000 men "who had fought" 
on the plateau under Hohenlohe that day, and while fully 
50,000 Frenchmen fought, and fought like heroes, it was indeed 



NAPOLEON'S GREAT TRIUMPH. 505 

a victory of infinite glory for Napoleon. Never did Prussian 
officers fight more devotedly, more determinedly ; and never 
was there a battle on European soil in which the proportion of 
officers killed was so great as in the Prussian lines at Jena. It 
seems as though they had sought death rather than acknowl- 
edge defeat, and when, late that afternoon. Prince Hohenlohe 
with a few squadrons rallied some of the survivors twelve miles 
from the field, and well back of Weimar, it was with despair in 
his heart that he saw the utter ruin of the proud army he so 
confidently thought to lead to victory. 

From Jena to Weimar the plateau was black with the dead 
and dying; 12,000 Prussians and Saxons were killed or left 
severely wounded on the field; 200 guns, 15,000 prisoners, had 
fallen nito the hands of Napoleon. Jena and Weimar, fired by 
the shells, were in flames ; and the panic-stricken survivors of the 
terrible day were wanderers over the wilds of Thuringia. 

Great as was Napoleon's triumph here, where he was now, as 
was his wont, looking after the care of his wounded before doing 
anything else, news of a still greater and much more astonishing 
victory was in store for him. Even while mourning the loss of 
4,000 of his brave men, killed and wounded, around Jena, and 
lamentmg that he had not completed the ruin of the entire 
Prussian army, he was greeted as he rode back by the glad 
tidings that Davout, unaided, had won a victory as complete as 
his own. He had annihilated the army of *;he king at Auer- 
stadt, twelve miles away. 

Jt deserves a chapter of its own. 



AUERSTADT. 




E have seen how Davout and Bernadotte had 
been hurried down the valley of the Saale to 
cut off the Prussian retreat, and how the 
army of the Duke of Brunswick escorting 
the king and his court had found their pas- 
sage barred at Naumburg. This little city 
lay on the east bank of the Saale some 
twenty miles below Jena, and, while ordered 
to hold it and the bridge, Davout had re- 
c:<ilved his injuncUC/iis to cross if possible and attack the enemy's 
rear; for Napoleon supposed that he had the entire army of 
Prussia facing him uu the plateau, or that he would have it there 
on the 14th of October. 

O-s the evening of the 13th the Duke of Brunswick, learning 
that the bridge was lield by Davout, had gone into camp with 
his army around the village of Auerstadt, which lay some six 
miles south of west of Naumburg, and about twelve miles due 
north of the plateau betweeri Jena and Weimar. Out to the east 
of Auerstadt was a tract o< open country, extending some miles 
on both sides of the road between Naumburg and Weimar. A 
narrow, shallow stream flowing from the north into the Ilm was 
enclosed between two smooth and gradual slopes ; the western, 
up towards the rising ground in front of Auerstadt; the eastern, 
up to the ridge between it and the Saale ; and on this ridge, and 
traversed by the main road, Avas the hamlet, of Hassenhausen 
mid-way between Naumburg and Auerstadt. East of Hassen- 
hausen the high-road drops down by steep grades and sharp 
curves into the valley of the Saale, and runs along the river 
506 



BRUNSWICK'S GREAT BLUNDER. 509 

bank until it reaches the bridge. Commanded as it is by the 
steeps, and crowded in this narrow space, it forms an easily 
defensible pass or defile, and was known to the Prussians as the 
'■ Defile of Kosen." 

Now, knowing Davout to be over in Naumburg, one would 
suppose that the Prussians would not neglect to occupy this de- 
file in force ; but it seems that as soon as the old Duke of Bruns- 
wick found that he could not hope to cross the bridge, he decided 
that he had no use for the defile. Sending cavalry forward to 
reconnoitre, and satisfying himself that nothing but Davout's ve- 
dettes were on the west side of the river, he determined to let 
all his men get what rest they could. They had marched no 
more than fifteen miles, but, so unused were the Prussians to 
marching at that time, that had been enough to fatigue them. 
Then, too, they were hungry, and their commissary wagons had 
gone astray in the confusion. The bulk of the Prussian army 
around Auerstadt went supperless to sleep, and woke in the 
morning hungry and dispirited. Badly led, badly fed, they were 
not feelingparticularly warlike when the 14th of October dawned, 
foggy, chill and raw; and, roused from their uneasy slumbers by 
the roar of battle on the distant heights of Jena, they huddled 
around their fires, wondering what their part was to be in the 
drama of the day. 

The call came soon enough. On the evening of the 13th, 
Davout, who never neglected the faintest detail of his duty, had 
ridden to the western bank of the Saale, and there, from some 
captured cavalrymen, learned that the main body of the Prussian 
army was even then at Auerstadt. He felt well assured that he 
would have brisk work with the dawn, and so sent over some 
light infantry to occupy the defile that the Prussians had failed 
to seize— a blunder on the part of the Duke of Brunswick quite 
on a par with Plohenlohe's loss of the Landgrafenberg. At six 
A. M., on the 14th, a despatch reached him from Napoleon dated 
some hours earlier from his bivouac back of Jena. It told him 
that at dawn Napoleon meant to attack the Prussian army, all 
of which the emperor believed then to be on the plateau, and 
directed him to move up to Apolda, a town in rear of the posi- 



5IO AUERSTADT. 

tion of Prince Hohenlohe, so as to attack the Prussian left and 
rear while he attacked in front. Then the emperor went on to 
say : " If the Prince of Ponte Corvo (-Bernadotte) is with you, 
you may march together ; but the emperor hopes he will be 
already in the place assigned to him at Dornburg." 

Now Bernadotte was " with him ; " that is to say, the whole 
First corps was right there near Naumburg with the Third, and 
Davout at once galloped to Bernadotte, showed him the order, 
and urged that together they should cross and with their united 
forces, 46,000 men, assault the Prussians at Auerstadt, and thus, 
at least, prevent their sending aid to the forces in 'front of Na- 
poleon ; but Bernadotte declined. The truth was, he hated and 
was jealous of Davout ; he would share no glory with him. Da- 
vout urged — even implored him to act with him; offered him the 
supreme command of the movement ; pledged him his best sup- 
port. It was the cause of France, he urged, but Bernadotte would 
have none of it. "The emperor hoped he was already at Dorn- 
burg," and so, though ordered to support Davout if with or near 
him, and not at Dornburg, Marshal Bernadotte marched away 
with every man of his strong and valiant corps, and so took 
them out of both Jena and Auerstadt. It is only anticipating a 
little to say that the emperor reprimanded him in a personal let- 
ter written a week after the battle ; accused him of making a 
"false march," and referred to his conduct in terms that would 
have made a sensitive soldier wretched ; but Bernadotte seems 
to have been self-complacent, and the emperor's wrath against 
him vanished with the next campaign. He had left Davout 
alone, with only 26,000 men in the front of 66,000, but had left 
him to win imperishable glory. 

Davout had forty-four guns, three divisions of infantry and 
three regiments of light cavalry. A division of heavy cavalry 
that had been sent to assist the First and Third corps conjointly, 
was marched off by Bernadotte as though his exclusive property. 
But Davout's infantr}' was superb; some called it the best in the 
army, for Davout was a disciplinarian, a drill-master, tactician 
and fighter combined. He was an admirable corps commander, 
and now that his orders had come, supported or unsupported, he 



MARSHAL "VORWAERTS" TO THE FRONT. 511 

meant to carry them out. Soon after six o'clock his columns 
were in march across the bridge, and the marshal was ascending 
the defile of Kosen. With him was the Twenty-fifth of the line, 
a strong regiment of Gudin's division, while well out to the 
front were his light cavalry. The divisions of Morand and Fri- 
ant were following in long column of route, but well closed up. 
The fog that obscured objects on the high plateau of Jena 
was still more dense down here in the valley of the II m, and, 
spreading out in dispersed order, the horsemen in front eagerly 
felt their way forward, reached the hamlet of Hassenhausen, 
listened a while to the far-off rumble of the guns now beginning 
to boom back of Jena, and then, more cautiously now and ex- 
tending still farther to right and left, they slowly advanced across 
the open slope down into the dense mist of the shallow valley, 
and suddenly encountered a line of shadowy troopers riding up 
stealthily upon them. Neither side could tell what might be 
behind the other. Gruff challenges were interchanged, then out 
leaped pistols and sabres; and Davout, halting on the ridge and 
deploying the Twenty-fifth across the road, was greeted by the 
popping of fire-arms out in the fog-bank to his front. 

It seems that early in the morning the Duke of Brunswick 
had decided to push ahead for the Saale. Davout, he learned, 
had no very strong force, and he might retake the bridge. If 
not, he could go on down the west bank. The roar of Hohen- 
lohe's guns at Jena in nowise deterred him. That was merely 
done, he argued, to cover the retreat. Hohenlohe was probably 
falling back after him. With Schmettau's Prussian division, the 
duke was escorting the king and his court; behind them at long 
intervals, and in very lax order for disciples of Frederick the 
Great, came the division of Wartensleben, and back of that, also 
in loose order, the division of Orange ; but in front of Schmet- 
tau was a strong brigade of hussars led and handled by a fierce 
old hussar general, a choleric, red-faced, tough-framed, hard- 
swearing, hard-riding, and — 'twas said — hard-drinking trooper 
at whom it is worth our while to take a long look. It is Gen- 
eral Bliicher, the same whom those Prussians will be calling 
Marshal Vorwaerts in a few years from now^ the same for whose 



51 a AUERSTADT. 

coming, or night, Wellington will be praying at Waterloo. It 
is the tough old Prussian's first campaign against the now 
famous Napoleon, and he begins this day to imbibe a hatred for 
him that only death will quench. 

Bliicher's hussars had crossed the little stream in the depres- 
sion back of Hassenhausen, and were coming up the misty slope, 
when, as we have seen, they ran slap into the light horse of the 
French. Calling up his squadrons, Bliicher made a dash, 
picked up some prisoners and raced the Frenchmen back to the 
ridge, where they were brought up standing by a volley from 
the Twenty-fifth. Davout's guns galloped up and hurled a few 
rounds of grape through the now rising mists at Bliicher's 
hussars, whereon the latter were thrown into much disorder, 
and their general, shaking his head in perplexity, galloped back 
to tell his royal master, what the roar of the guns and the 
volley of the Twenty-fifth must already have told him, that the 
French were across the Saale in unknown numbers, but with 
all three arms of the service — cavalry, infantry and artillery. 
Then an alarming discovery was made. Bliicher's horse- 
battery had not come back with the hussars. It had been 
dashed upon by the Twenty-fifth in the fog and dragged into 
Hassenhausen, and Schmettau's division was ordered forward to 
find it. 

And so the two armies met in the mist. Gudin's division was 
already deployed in, and to the right of Hassenhausen, when 
Schmettau leaped to the front eager to show his king the valor 
and discipline of his men. 

Just to the north of Hassenhausen was quite a dense wood 
which Gudin had crammed with skirmishers. The village 
itself was occupied by the Eighty-fifth, while the Twelfth, 
Twenty-first and Twenty-fifth vi^ere posted along the ridge to 
the (French) right of the wood. The ridge to the left of the 
Eighty-fifth's position was to be occupied by Morand's division 
as soon as he should come up, while Friant, still in the defile, 
was ordered to hasten his march and deploy on reaching the 
heights. 

The fog was just beginning to clear a little as Schmettau's 



A TREMENDOUS STRUGGT.E AROUND HASSENHAUSEN. 513 

men began to ascend the slope, and thus the French position 
was reached. The infantry could make no headway against the 
sharp fire from the wood and the village walls ; but old Bliicher 
thought he saw a golden opportunity. Gathering 2,500 cavalry, 
he galloped up the slope beyond the French lines, then faced 
southward and came charging down upon their right flank. 
Gudin was ready for him. Quickly the regiments were thrown 
into squares and received the dragoons with bristling and im- 
movable ranks that flashed fire and death into their faces and 
completely broke the squadrons. Again and again Bliicher 
sounded the rally and himself led them in to the charge, but 
the squares would not break ; then Davout opened his guns on 
the horsemen. Bliicher's charger was killed under him, and the 
raging old fighter was with difficulty pulled out, mounted on 
the horse of his trumpeter and led away in the general scurry 
to the rear. 

By this time Morand's division was moving forward into 
position, and the head of Friant's column appeared on the scene. 
All Gudin's division therefore was concentrated in and around 
Hassenhausen, in front of which the Prussians were now mass- 
ing; and Friant's men, the same who so superbly held the right 
at Austerlitz, were sent by Davout to hold the right at Auer- 
stadt. On the Prussian side the divisions of Wartensleben and 
Orange were now deploying, but a very slow and clumsy per- 
formance it proved to be, so little had they been accustomed of 
late years to field mancEuvres of any kind. Nevertheless, the 
assault on Hassenhausen now began, and proved to be a tremen- 
dous struggle. Schmettau's officers, at least, led their men for- 
ward with the utmost spirit and vigor, and despite the galling 
fire of Gudin's lines, closed in around this central point, gained 
the western edge of the hamlet, and then there ensued the bloodiest 
conflict of the day in proportion to the numbers engaged. The 
Eighty-fifth had already lost half its men ; the Twelfth on its 
left was desperately defending that flank from the assault of 
Wartensleben's overwhelming numbers, for Morand being not 
yet up in line could not aid them. The village was the key- 
point of the slope, and whichever side should succeed in holding 



514 AUERSTADT. 

it would hold the victory. For an hour, therefore, the walls and 
hedges were the centre of a crowding circle of fierce com- 
batants. Gudin's men were shot down by scores, but, so con- 
tracted was the space in which they fought, the killed and 
wounded were dragged back among the buildings, and new 
men stepped into their places, keeping the circle intact. Two 
divisions on one, the fight raged, the Prussians furiously driv- 
ing in on that indomitable command of Gudin's, as though in- 
spired with the faith that their numbers must prevail ; but the 
ground was absolutely littered with their dead and dying. Gen- 
eral Schmettau at last received a mortal wound and was borne 
to the rear, and then the sight of the recoiling divisions inspired 
the brave old Duke of Brunswick to another and more deter- 
mined effort. The Prussian Grenadier Guard, tall, stalwart, 
highly disciplined soldiers, had now reached the ground. Order- 
ing the way to be cleared in front, and placing himself at their 
head, the duke led this fresh and devoted division to the storm 
of Hassenhausen. Schmettau's shattered battalions strove to 
form on its flank, and Wartensleben's to assist, but Morand's 
men were now pushing up against Wartensleben. Friant was 
getting a cross-fire on the centre division ; the guards marched 
up in stately order. Gudin's men crouched behind the hedges 
or knelt along the skirts of the blazing village, and held their 
fire until the leading ranks were within an hundred yards, and 
then drove a crashing volley into the guardsmen that made them 
reel, though they would not break ; but one bullet tore its fatal 
way through the face of the brave old duke, and, blind and bleed- 
ing, he was carried back to the king he had served so well, a 
dying man. Marshal Mollendorf sprang forward to take his 
commander's place at the head of the guards, and reached the 
circle of fire around Hassenhausen only to be struck down as 
was his gallant chief The three great leaders of the king's 
main army, Brunswick, Mollendorf and Schmettau, were thus 
disposed of BliJcher was doing what he could with his horse- 
men on the outskirts of the battle, but Hassenhausen was still 
firmly held by the French, and now the King of Prussia him- 
self resolved to lead his troops in battle. His horse was shot, 



BLUCHER'S INEFFECTUAL CHARGES. 515 

but he mounted another and strove to reanimate the men of 
Wartensleben who were faUing back before Morand's leading 
brigade. 

Orange's Prussian division came forward now, breathless, ex- 
cited, and while one brigade was sent to the support of Wartens- 
leben, the other breasted the slopes in front of Friant. Davout 
rushed the heroes of Austerlitz out of their cover in the wood, 
and Orange's men were driven back across the stream in sudden 
and demoralized flight, hardly knowing what had struck them. 
Then Davout galloped over to his left, where Morand's whole 
division was now advancing in the face of a perfect storm of 
grape' from the Prussian batteries. They halted for nothing, 
however. Davout's hat and a tuft of his streaming hair were car- 
ried away by a shot, but he never seemed to notice it, and now 
the three divisions, or the survivors rather, of Schmettau, War- 
tensleben and Orange, and the stately battalions of the Prussian 
guard, were falling back towards Auerstadt. 

The king had still two divisions of infantry not yet engaged 
and some 10,000 cavalry, but, thanks to the careless order of 
march, the infantry were still far to the rear. The cavalry had 
its chance, however, and old Bliicher now formed his great 
division for an overwhelming attack on Morand's nine battalions. 
The ground on that side especially favored cavalry manoeuvres; 
the Prussian horse, at least, were in fine order of drill and disci- 
pline. 

It was now high noon. The quick eyes of Davout and Mo- 
rand had seen the preparations of the Prussian horse, and the 
instant the squadrons began their advance, seven battalions were 
thrown into squares and challenged the Prussians to come on. 
Prince William rode in the first charge — a spirited effort ; but 
with their front ranks kneeling, the second slightly crouching, 
and the rear erect, the squares seemed by their silence to invite 
the horsemen to attack, waited until the daring squadrons were 
almost on them, then square after square vomited its volleys on 
the Prussian horse, and after several vain attempts and severe 
loss in killed and wounded, Bliicher called off his men, who rode 
back under showers of grape from the guns. 



516 AUERSTADT. 

Tht. battle had lasted six hours by the time the cavalry gave 
it up. Gudin's division was well-nigh exhausted, but Friant and 
Morand were comparatively fresh and superlatively full of fight. 
It was at this stage that Marshal Kalkreuth moved up from be- 
hind Auerstadt with the two reserve divisions — Arnim's and 
Kiihnheim's of the king's army. Up to this point the Prussians 
were badly beaten, and Davout's men threw themselves upon 
the sward to take breath. The king's generals gathered around 
him in earnest consultation. Old Bliicher vehemently urged 
for permission to take the reserve and all the cavalry, and thus 
mass 30,000 fresh men on the wearied troops of Davout, hurl 
him back on the defile and down the banks into the Saak ; but 
there were other counsellors who had had enough of it. " Every 
time we send in a fresh body of troops they bring up another 
divisioii from that defile," was urged. " They are just playing 
with us — eating us up by detail ; already Schmettau's division 
is annihilated ; Wartensleben's crippled ; Orange's broken and 
scattered. Fall back ; wait until to-morrow and we will have all 
Hohenlohe's army and Ruchel's corps here to aid us. Then 
victory is sure." 

And, despite the furious protestations of Bliicher, these tem- 
porizing counsels prevailed. The king gave the order for Kalk- 
reuth, with the cavalry and artillery, to stand firm and cover the 
retreat, and the broken and wearied battalions of the morning's 
battle were permitted to fall back. With something akin to incre- 
dulity Davout watched this astounding blunder. He had hoped 
for nothing better than to hold his ground until Bernadotte 
should come back, conscience-stricken, and help him; but now 
with delight he ordered forward his batteries, straightened out 
his lines, and cheer upon cheer went up from the grand Third 
corps as they saw their late antagonists disappearing over the 
western slopes. It was getting on towards half-past three when 
Kalkreuth, who had moved forward to the brook to prevent an 
assault on the retiring divisions, suddenly found his right wing 
subjected to a severe artillery fire from the Sonnenberg, an cle\a- 
tion south of Hassenhausen. It was no use trying to advance 
and take the guns. All the king's batteries seemed to be cut up 



DAVOUT WINS A GLORIOUS VICTORY. 517, 

and bent only on getting safely off with the main body; so order- 
ing the cavalry to fall back at the same time, Marshal Kalkreuth, 
slowly and in good order, began "backing" up his slope towards 
the plateau, on which stood Auerstadt. This was more than 
Davout could stand. Striking spurs to his horse he dashed out 
in front, waving his sword and shouting to his lines to follow. 
Tired as they were, the men sprang to the charge, tore down the 
slopes and over the brook, the long lines stretching far out to 
right and left. Kalkreuth's men fired, but fired high, then quick- 
ened their retreat; and soon, they could hardly tell how, the 
enthusiastic soldiers of France were in mad pursuit of the Prus- 
sian army and chasing it through Auerstadt. The Third corps 
had whipped more than twice its weight in foes — all Prussians, 
and Davout had won a glorious victory. 

The losses of the king's forces on the field alone were fright- 
ful. Three great generals, hundreds of officers of lower grades 
were killed. Nine thousand men were left, killed or wounded, 
and 3,000 prisoners and 115 guns fell into the hands of Davout. 
And his own losses had, of course, been very severe. Out of 
his 26,000 he had 7,000 killed and wounded. Morand and 
Gudin were both severely injured. Half the generals of brig- 
ade and the colonels were dead or disabled, and the defence 
of Hassenhausen had been as bloody a fight as the plain of Ma- 
rengo. 

But far greater trials were in store for the King of Prussia. 
He had decided to fall back along the Weimar road until he 
should be within supporting distance of Hohenlohe and Ruchel. 
Long before he could get in sight of Weimar, tidings of disaster 
began to reach him. Then, from the by-roads and pathways 
towards the Ilm to his left, there came stragglers drifting north- 
ward across his path ; then whole squads and companies ; then 
the country grew black with fugitives; then staff-officers, seeking 
their monarch, told him that it was useless to flee farther that 
way; Ruchel was dead, Hohenlohe ruined — all was lost. Napo- 
leon and the whole French army were in pursuit. The news 
spread among the marching men and they too began to br'Jak. 
and finally, as night closed upon the dismal scene, all ordc all 



518 AUERSTADT. 

organization was lost, and tlie remains of the proud Prussian 
army were a mass of panic-stricken fugitives streaming over the 
barrens of Thuringia. The combined victories of Jena and Auer- 
stadt had utterly ruined the army of the king. 

Incredulous as was Napoleon at first on hearing what Davout 
had accomplished, he speedily recognized the facts, and disbelief 
gave way to the utmost exultation and gratitude. Loading Da- 
vout with honors and compliments, the emperor ordered Berna- 
dotte, wh.ase men had not fired a gun, to push forward with 
Murat's cavalry in the most vehement and rapid pursuit. Not a 
chance should be given the Prussians to rally. That pursuit was 
vengeful and effective to the last degree. It broke the remnants 
of the once martial array into mere splinters, and it taught Blii- 
cher a lesson in the art of grinding an enemy to powder that he 
never forgot. He even improved upon it when he chased the 
French to P^ris in 1815. This "debauched old dragoon," as 
Napoleon called him, soon grew to be the object of the emperor's 
especial aversion. He alone got away from Auerstadt with his 
command in any kind of shape; and, though captured along the 
Elbe, it was not until he had exhausted all supplies and could 
surrender with honor. Some years later, so hateful had they be- 
come to each other. Napoleon, in signing a treaty of peace with 
Prussia, stipulated that old " Marshal Vorwaerts," as the Rus- 
sians had named him, should be dismissed from the army and 
relegated to private life. But he was resurrected in time for 
Waterloo. 

With her army annihilated, Prussia could now do nothing to 
prevent Napoleon's occupation of her capital. With exaspera- 
ting deliberation the French marched on Berlin. Davout, as 
his reward for Auerstadt, was accorded the proud honor of 
being the first to enter it, while Napoleon tarried a day or 
two at the shrine of Frederick the Great at Potsdam. With 
the humiliations to which he subjected Prussia and the Prus- 
sians we have nothing here to do. They were at his mercy 
now — and have had ample revenge in later years. His next 
move was to cripple Russia while her neighbor was prostrate 
at his feet ; and, after being severely handled in the winter 



THE "PEACE OF TILSIT" FOLLOWS FRIEDLAND. 519 

battles of Eylau and Pultusk, he finally won the great battle 
of Friedland in the following June, and the brilliant pageant 
of the " Peace of Tilsit " followed. He dictated his own 
terms, which would have been impossible but for Jena and 
Auerstadt. 




FROM MAYENCE TO BERLIN. 
(Jena and Auerstadt and Adjacent Counliy.) 



7 1905 



